mature xxx

God, how embarrassing. A grown woman, squirming in my seat. Jeez. Where do these idiot experts/sexperts come up with the rubbish that men and women are different sexually? It’s only centuries of social encoding that makes some people believe that women are somehow passive and monogamous. Crap. Who wouldn’t spend the day fuckin’ if there weren’t bills to pay? And who’d choose not to have variety in partners? Oh, sure. If a guy committed enough to work at it came along and the two of you made sure that things didn’t get dull. But that’s not going to happen in this lifetime. Not for me anyway. Too old. Too set in my ways. Too independent. Too, too wantin’ that young man up there on the stage accepting his award.

How incredibly attractive he was. Did he know it? Maybe. Maybe not. He didn’t sound cocksure of himself. He didn’t sound unsure either. He had a brain or he wouldn’t be receiving the J.B. Sotheby Award. Annually, the university held an awards ceremony where deserving students cleaned up in scholarship money. The Sotheby was reserved for the very deserving. Brian Cane was, I’d heard, very deserving. He was in the physics program and I’d not had him in any classes. Colleagues had said he’d win the plum prize. Yeah. I’d like to give him a prize. Stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum. Come here, boy. Sit. Roll over. Let me scratch your tummy.

I couldn’t make my brain stop. I tried. Really, I did. Not too hard, but I did. These things were so boring after all of these years. I know. I shouldn’t feel this way. It’s not the students. They’re wonderful. It’s all of these pompous administrators, colleagues, and benefactors who drive me nuts. They think they’re so important. They think they deserve credit for fostering education! Good lord. Wouldn’t Thoreau cringe? He who desired to spend money on only two things: good roads and education. I’m with you, Henry! As if it doesn’t help us all to foster the arts and education. Duh. Ah, well. Fifteen seconds of fame, I guess.

Neither train of thought was taking care of the itch in my panties. Brian had finished his acceptance speech and left the stage. Could I make it to the ladies and diddle myself before anyone missed me? Probably. Guess I’ll go for it. I stood and excused myself to the man next to me. Fortunately, I was in the second seat from the aisle and created little disturbance as I left the auditorium. I escaped the semi-darkness through the massive double doors and entered the better lit foyer. I turned left to go the ladies’ room. Ah. There is a god, and she is well pleased with me today. Or he. I don’t care. I’m blessed. Before me walks young Sotheby Award winner, headed for the men’s room. Karma. Kismet. Fate. Bullshit. I think my heady vibes just made their way up to him and he came out to receive his prize from me.

To hell with the diddle. I don’t need to pee. I’ll stake myself out here and wait for him to emerge. What’s wrong with me? I can’t pick up this kid right here in the foyer of the university auditorium. Can I? Well, a quick congrats. That wouldn’t be out of order, now would it? A couple of minutes and Brian came out. I had placed myself close enough to the opening of the short hallway leading to the restrooms that I knew we had to make eye contact.

“Oh, hello,” I said. “You’re the young man who won the Sotheby. Brian Cane, right? Congratulations!” And I meant it.

“Uh. Thanks,” he returned. “This is really all kinda embarrassing, but I’m very happy about the scholarship. But the spotlight is not my favorite place.”

He was now only steps away from me. I had a decision to make. Do I nail him before he ships off to M.I.T. or god knows where, or do I let the itch go unscratched? Shit. Scratch.

“Do you have more spotlight time comin’ up,” I enquired.

“Nah. Thank god.”

“Parents, friends, family, all here watchin’ ya, huh?”

“Uh, no. Threre’s only my sister and she couldn’t make it.”

“Oh, that’s not right,” I exclaimed. “An honor such as this deserves a huge celebration! Let me buy you a drink and a meal. By the way, I’m Dr. Stewart, English prof here at the university.”

“Yeah. I’ve seen you around. But I can’t let you take me out.”

“Ah. I’m too old for you to be seen with, eh? Well, that’s all right. I suppose we could celebrate at my place if you want.”

Brian shuffled from foot to foot, looking sheepish.

“No. You don’t understand. I don’t mean that at all. I mean it wouldn’t be right for a lady to do the taking out. I’m old fashioned that way, I guess. I’d love to have some company right now. I am kinda pumped, and no one to share it with. Do you have some place in mind?”

Oh, hell. Why did I mention going out. Why not just move straight to my bedroom via a quick stop in the kitchen for a beer and a sandwich. Oh, hell. Screw the sandwich, too. Food can wait.

“Well. I don’t really have a particular place in mind. I’d just as soon go to my place and be comfortable. Whaddya think?”

Brian looked crushed. “Oh, no. You didn’t believe me about not being worried about being seen with you.”

“No. No, I did believe you. I just, well, I just . . . Look, Brian. I dunno whether you can sense it, but I . . .”

He cut me off. “Yeah. Yeah, I sense it. It’s weird, but I think I know what you’re thinking.”

I laughed. “God, I hope not, son. If you do, then you should be on fire!”

“Well, that’s a way of puttin’ it.”

“So, does that mean you want to come home with me?”

“Yeah. That’s what that means.”

————————————-

The drive home was too slow. I didn’t live far and I broke the speed limits all the way, but it was still too slow. I got very good vibes from this young man. He was sweet, explaining to me during the drive how he’d never dreamed of such educational success. He and his sister had been orphaned at early ages and taken in and passed around by various relatives over the years–older relatives who had since passed on. Ah. Finally. My driveway had rarely looked so good. Damn garage door opener. Work faster. O.K. Car’s in the garage. Now get out of it and see if your legs can hold you up until you get inside. Very undignified to do him on the concrete. Concrete very hard, too. Oh, god. Hard.

I had thought we might make it to the bedroom, but we didn’t. The moment we got through the backdoor and into the den we were all over one another. As the door shut, we started kissing furiously. Brian’s kisses were hot and sweet. He pressed his lips, slightly parted, over mine. Soon, I backed away and began tearing off my jacket and so did Brian. I then turned to pull his shirt from his trousers and he pulled my blouse from my skirt. His right hand went up the front of my blouse and cupped my right breast through the bra. I reached down and started unbuttoning my blouse as quickly as possible. He started unbuttoning his shirt. I managed to get my blouse off, but only after Brian had torn off his own shirt and grabbed my waist with both hands, guiding me to the arm of the sofa where he sat me down. His hands moved swiftly around to unfasten the bra and release my breasts. Where the bra went, I don’t know. Blouse? Who cared? I just knew that his mouth soon found my nipples, moving back and forth between left and right. My hands, both of them, wandered to Brian’s crotch. I started to unzip his trousers, but I wasn’t quick enough for him. He moved his hands down and released his penis from its confines.

Good lord. Big brains. Big penis. That one I hadn’t heard. I thought it was big feet. Big nose. Something. In truth, Brian probably wasn’t much above average. Just a bit. But I didn’t seek out hugely endowed men because I was very small. Hmmm. How shall I say? Not my body, but my vagina. More than one man had gotten off way before he intended because I was tighter than he expected. Genetics. Thank you. Kegls. Thank me. I got back to business, the business of pleasure. I still had to give the Sotheby winner his prize from me. He certainly wanted to begin pounding me then and there. He had pulled, jerkily, my skirt up around my waist. The panties, limp from my juices, he managed to pull down around my ankles in an eyewink. Not what I wanted though.

As I maneuvered myself out of the panties around my ankles, I ushered Brian around to the front of the sofa. I pushed him down on to the sofa in a sitting position. I squatted at his feet and removed the shoes. Forget the socks. I grabbed the cuffs of his trousers and began to tug them down. He assisted by lifting his buttocks off the couch, grabbing the waistband, and pushing the trousers down. I got them off, threw them over my shoulder, and moved to my knees. Ah. There it is. The cock. Calling me. Standing up and hailing me like a frenzied tourist searching for a taxi at a foreign airport. Here’s your cab, honey. Get in, get in. I couldn’t decide whether to waste the time to remove the skirt or simply let it ride up around my waist. Aw, let it ride.

I leaned down, in a hurry to take Brian’s cock into my mouth. I wanted him to glisten with my saliva. He tensed up. Not a bad tension. An expectant one. I continued to fellate him, moving up and down, circling my tongue around. Brian’s left arm went around my back and the right hand’s index finger went to my vagina. He didn’t insert it, but slid it up to my clitoris and began to trace small circles with his finger. The feeling was incredible. The electricity ran from between my legs up to my brain. My whole body was aching for coitus. I was dripping with moisture, ready to take him into my body. I gently released Brian’s penis from my mouth and returned to my squatting position, the movement pulling his finger from my clit in the process. In a second I stood and leaned my knees down to the sofa’s surface, one knee on either side of his. Brian grabbed his cock with his right hand and guided it into me as I lowered myself onto him. I went slowly. I wanted to enjoy the penetration. He didn’t rush it. Good boy. Soon, I engulfed him. The ride began.

I managed to move my feet onto the sofa’s surface, one at a time, without jerking Brian’s penis from inside me. Ah. Now I was in a position to do some pumping. I looked squarely into Brian’s eyes. He looked into mine. Squatted flat footed on top of his hard on, I began to make pouncing, bouncing moves up and down his cock. His eyes got huge. The tightness and the movement were beginning to catch up with his brain. The eyes got even bigger. Brian’s hands grabbed me around the waist. He began to control the speed and depth of my thrusts. He slowed me down, lessened the depth. I appreciated the guidance. I was too hot to control my own actions. Left on my own, I’d move him to cum too soon. It sounded stupid, trite. But my insides were on fire. It was something about the unabashed gaze with which he regaled me. He wanted inside me in more ways than one. This excited me more than I’d been excited in a very long time.

We settled into a synchronized groove. The Chili Peppers’ “Can’t stop the spirit when it needs you,” running through my mind. Each thrust was like a pleasurable cattle prod ramming my innermost being. I was unsure how long these ecstatic movements lasted. I was, simply put, not cognizant. Brian’s eyes continued to be locked on mine. I saw him, but I wasn’t fully focused. The position we were in lent itself to great pleasure for me. I hoped he was feeling even a fraction of what I felt. Vaguely, I noticed that Brian’s hands had left my hips. Ah. Was he feeling what I felt? Without his restraint, I fell to my own frenzied rhythm. I leaned forward, my hands on the back of the sofa on either side of his now reclined head. My chest neared his, nipple grazing nipple. I began to grind in circles. Brian thrust his body upward. He joined the triumphant dance as if we had been partners for life.

I was unprepared for the climax of this get together. No. I knew Brian was about to explode. I simply was not prepared for the ferocity of it. He began to buck up and down, his moans becoming louder and louder. His orgasm was apparently going to last forever. Oh, god. This was beyond description. Rarely in my life had I experienced an orgasm other than clitoral. G-spot’s ass. Sooner find a unicorn. Why these websites kept feeding these young women such crap I couldn’t figure out. No wonder they fucked at the drop of a hat. They thought they were entitled to something that probably didn’t exist. Poor younger guys. But there was no doubt that I was currently feeling something that I had not felt before. Brian’s cock was searing my vaginal walls, the tip of his cock touching my tonsils, it seemed. I was filled, expanded, super-sensitive. Was I screaming? Yes, I believe I was. Poor Mildred next door. I hoped she was in the house and not in her side garden overhearing these sounds of passion.

Why couldn’t I pay attention. Why was James Joyce filling my head. Metem pike hoses. Metapsychosis. Oh, god. Ulysses? Now? Was my life flashing before my eyes? Shit. I was dying. That was it. Fuckin’ dying. But then I wasn’t. I was feeling Brian’s arms enfold me, feeling warm cum fill me, feeling my pumping lungs slow down. I didn’t know if I was crying or laughing. Maybe both. Brian’s hands went to either side of my face and pulled my head up off his chest. We stared at one another. He was crying/laughing, too. I had been unaware of sweating, but we were both drenched. We continued to look at one another. Shortly, I slumped forward again, too spent to hold myself up. Brian lowered his upper body to the right and down onto the couch. I was pulled down with him. In the same movement, he pulled his legs off the floor and up on the couch. I was on top of him, snuggling into his still hot and sweaty chest. My hair was matted to my cheeks. I was hungry, but I couldn’t bear to move away from him. He held me so tightly. There was no need to hold me so hard. I was going nowhere. I hadn’t felt so inclined to stay in one place in a long, long while.

The tables were certainly turned. I had expected to give young master Brian a prize. Instead, he had given me one. Well, the afternoon was barely over. There was still time after a nap. The prize, the prize. Grab the brass ring, boy. No. Grab the brass ring, man. Mmmmm. No, grab the ass, man. Aye. Later, m’love. You deserve two prizes now. “This life is more than just a read through,” the Chili Peppers hummed.

Sticky. Good sticky. I wonder if she’s awake. Huh. No matter. I like it. The way she’s hugging my chest. She feels so good, soft. Her ass. Hard. Soft. Both.

I moved my hand down from her back to her butt. I couldn’t help it. I started rubbing the left cheek. Shit. Busted. She’s moving. I hope she’s not mad. She’s gonna look up. Yeah. Jeez, her eyes are so blue. Does she look mad? No, maybe not. Hair mussed. One strand hanging down her cheek.

“Hi,” she said softly.

She raised herself up on her arms, pulled herself up toward my head, and kissed me on the lips. A soft, sucking kiss. Good. No, not good. She’s moving. Where? Where going?

“I’m a mess,” she announced. “Gotta pee and get to the shower.” She jumped up, surprisingly quickly.

She dropped to her knees by the sofa and leaned her face near my ear.

“You wore me out, Mr. Sotheby Award. I can’t remember the last time I felt so good!”

God, was she talking to me? Shit. She stood and headed away from me. That ass. God it was fine. It looked as if it were made of two mini basketballs, bouncing slightly as she walked away. She turned her head enough to say I could shower down here in the bathtub style shower or wait until she was finished upstairs and enjoy the nice one. She pointed over to the right, presumably toward the bathroom.

“I’d invite you in with me up there,” she jerked her head upward, “but I’m starving and I’m afraid you’d just become my next meal if you got that close to me,” she chuckled.

“I’ll wait ’til you’re through,” I said. “Wouldn’t want you to overeat!” I smiled. God was that stupid? No, she’s smiling back. O.K.

“Feel free to turn on the T.V. or stereo. Remotes are on the table. I’ll be down soon.”

Sure, I thought. I’ve been down this road before. I could watch a football game before she got back down. Guess I’ll head to the head. Hmmm. Maybe take a shower down here anyway. Sticky. I’ll be clean when she gets back down.

I easily found the bathroom and everything I needed for a shower. It was evidently a guest bathroom, little samples of lots of stuff on the counter. The shower felt good and I think I stayed longer than usual. Thinking. No, remembering. Recalling the way she’d fucked me. Hot water. Hot sex. Swelling cock. When I got out, I walked back to the den to try and find my underwear located somewhere among the pieces of clothing all around the room. God, I didn’t wanna put the suit on now. How weird would the underwear and shirt be? As I was trying to decide what to put on, I looked up to see her coming down the stairs. Damn. That was fast. I hadn’t been out but a minute or two. She looked great. Much younger now. Her hair was down. She had on a short t-shirt and jeans. No makeup. No bra either, evidently. Nipples showing through the shirt. Hot.

I was so amazed that she had come down this quickly and that she had not bothered to put on makeup. Not that I minded. She didn’t need it. She may have had on some lipstick. But I couldn’t tell. Savannah, the girl I’d been dating off and on, took ages to get ready. She might change clothes three or four times before we got out of her apartment.

“You showered,” she smiled. “Lookin’ for something’ to put on? I guess the suit is a bit formal. What about your shirt and underwear? That’ll do, dontcha think?”

“Yeah, I think that’ll do.” I started pulling on my underwear, scanning the area for my shirt, which I eventually spotted. She headed to the kitchen.

“I have leftover roast beef. Wanna sandwich? Or should I try for something else? I have lots of stuff in here. I can probably find something you like.”

Hmmm. She already had something I liked. I wanted to smell her. I got the shirt on, rolled up the sleeves, and headed over to her.

“Roast beef sounds great. I love it. Can I help?”

“Sure. You can tell me what you want on your sandwich. Mayo? Miracle Whip? Mustard? I have several kinds. I have cheese, two kinds, lettuce, tomato, onion. Oh, and pickles, too. What’s your pleasure?” She smiled. A big smile.

I moved up behind her as she turned to the refrigerator. I put my arms around her waist. She stopped. She turned her head around and up and looked at me. Good. Still smiling. I put my face next to her hair. Lemons. Her hair smelled like lemons. Ummm. I moved my nose closer to her neck. Vanilla, here. She moved her right hand around to my butt. She squeezed then pulled away to open the refrigerator door. She started hauling things out, passing some to me. Soon we had the sandwiches built and were seated at the table eating and talking. She was funny. I didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. She asked me about my sister and about what had happened to my folks. It didn’t seem nosy. It seemed concerned.

She reached over to me several times. Touched my arm. My face. It felt good. I wanted to hold her. Close. Squeeze her. Smell her some more. I wanted to fuck her, too. But that could wait. I’d be happy just keeping her close to me. What would she think when we got up. The hard on. Would she notice? Mind? I dunno.

Finally, we’d sat at the table about as long as we could. She made a move to get up, gathering the plates and glasses. I got up, too. Helped her. Followed her into the kitchen and watched her as she bent over to put the dishes in the dishwasher. Curve of her body as she bent. Nice.

“Do you have some place you need to be? Someone to see?” she asked as she stood back up again.

What does that mean? She wants me to go?

“Uh. Are you expecting someone? Should I go?”

She smiled. I liked this smile.

“No. No expectations. I just wanted you to know that it was all right for you to leave if you wanted to. No obligations. Don’t be afraid to say so if you have to go.”

“No. I don’t have to go. But I will if you want me to.”

She smiled again.

“I’d like for you to stay. But only if you want to.”

Hell, yes, I wanna stay. Like forever.

“Sure, I’ll stay.” I hesitated. Didn’t know if she’d want to be seen out with me. No, wait. She’d asked me out earlier. Maybe she wouldn’t mind.

“Wanna go somewhere?” I ventured. “To eat or something’?”

“We just ate, Brian. I am a glutton, but I’m not hungry again just yet.” Her smile and tone of voice told me she was kidding me, being a smart ass. I laughed. She laughed back.

“You know what I mean. I’ll take you out, later, if you wanna go somewhere.”

“That’s sweet. Let’s see how things go. We might just ring up for a pizza later. Or pick up some burgers at the drive thru. We’ll see. I think the game’s on. Probably well into the first quarter now. Mind if I turn it on,” she asked as she looked up at me, drying her hands on a towel.

“No. Sure, turn it on.”

She headed back to the den, reached the table in the middle of the room, and picked up a remote. She punched some buttons and the Cowboys were on the screen. I didn’t care anything about the Cowboys. I’m a Falcons fan. But I could watch some ball. Next to her. She sat on the sofa, pulling her legs up and tucking them to her right side. She picked up one of the little pillows on the sofa and hugged it to her chest. I could be there. I could be a pillow.

She looked up at me. Patted the sofa, inviting me to sit. I did.

“When’s your first class in the morning?” she asked. “I don’t have one until 11:00.”

“Oh, god. I have an eight o’clock. Schwartz. Phil of man.”

“He’s good. Makes you think, doesn’t he?”

I was looking at her feet. They were bare. Little. Pink shiny on her toes. Toenails. A ring. A ring on one of her toes. Silver. I wanted to kiss that toe.

“Doesn’t he,” she asked again, louder this time.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. He does.” Back to the toe. Wanna kiss. Shirt long enough to cover. Cover my desire. She’s watching the game. Shit. She said shit. Why. Watch the game, watch the game. What happened. Oh, first down. Redskins. Skins. Skin. Touch her skin, her face. Her arms. I reached over and ran the back of my hand along her cheek. Soft. She turned her head to look at me. Took my hand in hers. Licked then kissed my palm. God. Electrical impulses.

She smiled at me then turned her attention back to the game. I tried to concentrate. Sometimes I could follow. The ‘Skins were killing the Cowboys. She was animated. She used her arms, her voice, her whole being watching the game. Cursing the Cowboys when they screwed up, cooing when they did well. She shifted positions a thousand times, squirming when the game got tense. Squirming. I want her squirming under me. Under me. Not on top this time. Under. Cover her. Cover her body with mine. Smell her. Feel her. Make her feel me.

She asked me something. Shit. What’d she ask me.

“Huh?”

“Do you want something to drink?” she asked again.

“Whaddya mean?”

She smiled, but looked vaguely exasperated.

“I MEAN do you want something to drink? You know, liquid. Stuff you swallow and it quenches a desire? Water? Soda? Beer? Coffee? Wine?” She stood up.

“Desire?” I asked. Shit. How stupid. Did I say that?

“Yes,” she smiled. “Satisfies your thirst. I don’t know if you drink alcohol. I have iced tea and soda if you don’t. I’m having a beer. Shiner Bock. Want one, or something else?” She was halfway to the kitchen.

I jumped up and followed. By the time I got there, she was already in the refrigerator pulling out a beer.

“Yeah. I’ll have a beer.”

She looked up, got another beer, closed the refrigerator door.

She placed the beers on the countertop then reached into a drawer, pulling out an opener. She removed the caps, tossed them on the counter, and handed me a beer. I put the beer down on the counter and took hers from her hand. I placed it on the counter, too. I closed in on her, putting my arms around her shoulders, pulling her next to me. She didn’t resist. She nestled her cheek on my chest. I held her there. Too long? She still didn’t resist. I pulled away, looked at her, took her hands into mine, holding them down by her sides. I bent down my head and kissed her, a quick kiss. She pulled her hands out of mine and placed them on my face. She then put them behind my neck and pulled my head down to hers. She kissed me long and hard and I pushed her back against the counter, returning the kiss. When we pulled back from each other, she was smiling. She turned to pick up her beer and headed back to the den to watch the game.

It was the longest fuckin’ football game I’ve ever watched. It went on and on and on. How many fuckin’ quarters have they been playin’ now? Fifty? Fifty one? Finally. God, it was finally over. She turned to me as she punched the ‘off’ button on the T.V.’s remote.

“I’m sorry I made you sit through the game,” she apologized. “I know you weren’t in to it, but I have a love/hate relationship with the ‘Boys. I’ve been watching them for too many years to stop now. Forgive me? Please?”

Her hand came up to my cheek. She looked me straight in the eyes. Hers so blue. Face, body, skin, not too tan. Dark hair. Dark. Some gray. A little. On one side. Don’t move that hand. I pulled her head to my chest. She wrapped her arms around my waist. We stayed this way for some minutes. I dunno how many. Finally, she pulled away from my chest and looked up at me. She spoke softly. Very softly.

“Wanna go upstairs?” And she smiled a little smile.

“Yes,” I replied. And we both left the couch at the same time, holding hands as we climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

Her room was soft. Not feminine. Just soft colors. I don’t know what colors. Silver? Gray? Some kind of pale purple color? Satin. She went to the side of the big bed farthest from the bedroom door. She started tugging the spread down. I walked to this side and pulled. What now? What do I do now? Take my shirt off.

As I started unbuttoning my shirt, she walked back around the bed and faced me. She unfastened the last button and pulled the shirt off me, tossing it on the chair near the bed. She looked down at the bulge in my underwear. Her hands went to the waistband. She looked up at me. In the eyes again. She slowly pulled the underwear down, having to pull the band up and out to get it over my stiff cock. Her eyes never left mine. When the underwear fell to my ankles, she wrapped her arms around my waist. I stepped out of the underwear.

“You are verrrry well built,” she purred. “Nice abs. Very nice buns.” She smiled and grabbed my ass with both hands.

I wanted to touch her breasts. Lick them. I reached for the bottom of her shirt, took it in my hands and slowly pulled it up. She raised her arms over her head to assist. I was right. No bra. Her tits were not large, not small. They were not pumped full of anything. They were not perky and they were not saggy. The nipples were dark. Dark and hard. They asked me to suck them. I did.

We fell to the bed and I sucked. Left, right, left, right. She moaned. Softly, but she moaned. I moved my hands to the buttons on her jeans. No zipper. I undid the buttons slowly, watching her watch me. I pulled the jeans down. No panties. Slim hips. Round ass. Muscular. Helping me with the jeans. Pushing them down, down. Free. Free of the jeans. The toe. I’d forgotten the ring. There’s the foot. There’s the toe. Kiss, kiss, kiss. Lick the ring, the toe. Up, up, now. My face went to her pubic hair. Ahhhhh. Vanilla here, too. Not too much. Faint. Faint smell of vanilla. Lap. Lap. Lap. My tongue finding her clit. Thumbs separating her lips. Lick, lick, lick, clit, clit, clit. She tasted so good.

Was she making the noise, or was I? Must’ve been her. Had to hold her hips now. Body moving, grinding, circling away from my tongue. Hold her. Hold her tight. Bucking, pumping, up, down, up, down, faster, faster. She’s screaming, screaming. Her hands on my head, pushing, pushing it away. My cock was bigger than it’d ever been before. Get it in, get it in. Am I thinking this? No, she’s saying this. I hear her. Get it in, get it in. Fuck me, please. Fuck me. Me saying this? No, no. Her. Wants me to fuck her, please. O.K. Thank you, I will please.

I raised my head, looked at her. There was sweat covering her forehead, her upper body. She glistened. I got to my knees. Her legs went up, up around my shoulders. I guided my cock into her. No, it went on its own. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh. So good. Shit. Ummmmm. Pump. Pump. Pump. Pump. Get focused. Focus.

I looked down at her face. She was looking at me. Yes, baby, she said. Yes, baby.

Oh, yes, baby, I thought. Yes. I could fuck you forever. Here it is. Here it is. Take it. Take it. Can you feel it? Pump some more. Pretty face. That pretty face. I felt myself going beyond the point where I could slow it down, where I could prolong the inevitable. I was getting off. It wouldn’t stop. The shuddering. The noise. This was me. Yes. The cum. Fill her, fill her. She was smiling. Smiling at me. Looking at me. Pushing, pushing, pushing her pussy up to my navel it seemed. Pushing it up around my cock. Pushing it to me, to me. Yes. Yes. Push it, baby, push it.

My pumping stopped. My breathing was slowing down. Her feet still on my shoulders. Looking down at her. Looking up at me. Smiling. She’s smiling.

“Thank you, baby,” she smiled. “Thank you.” Her legs came down.

“You’re welcome. You’re welcome. Thank you,” I whispered as I fell down on her. Covering her. Covering this woman. This recently squirming woman, now still. Still.

P.J. turned on her side, looked at the young man’s back, the taut, muscled, smooth back. He was sleeping soundly, sweat still matting the dark curls along his neck, resting from the early morning marathon. This is not going to work, she thought. He takes too much work, too much time.

Brian, the young man in question, had been in P.J.’s head and bed for two months now. They had spent almost every night together since they’d met, more and more of Brian’s clothing and personal items making their way into P.J.’s home. Brian was intelligent and serious minded, but not always focused. Intelligence is good, she thought. But his sense of humor is not deep. No fun. Well, fun, she thought, but not funny. He was able to focus when directed, but was not always self-disciplined. That’s where the work came in. The time. Trying to keep him focused on his studies. Squelching her own physical desires in order to prevent his academic downfall.

Of late, and she knew it was her fault, Brian had been studying her more than his subjects. His physical stamina was truly remarkable. Not how long he could last. That was normal, whatever normal was. It was the number of times in close succession that he could achieve a hard on. She had caught herself more than once teasing him into lovemaking just to see if indeed he could get it up again. This was not nice and she knew it. She just couldn’t help it. Well, she could. But she didn’t. Not enough anyway. Remarkable. She also knew that one of the reasons he had such stamina was because he was so serious about what he was doing. Again, no fun. Good, but not always fun. She required humor in lovemaking from time to time. Brian took sex very seriously.

P.J. abruptly stopped this line of thought.. She was mentally lying. She adored Brian. He had gotten into some places she had thought were closed. He held up a conversation as well as men twice his age. Literature, philosophy, history, economics, science, oh, could he talk science. Teach her about science. She needed to know, loved to learn. He taught her.

The mind. His mind. The ordered mind. Maybe that’s what it was. Brian wasn’t steeped in literature, but he was astute. One of P.J.’s favorite authors was Henry James, not palatable to most of the reading population of the universe. The nuances, the delicate explosions, the sinuous sentences, not to everyone’s taste. Brian embraced James. Started at the beginning and worked his way to “The Golden Bowl.” He’d done it in short order. She’d spent time with him on the more difficult pieces, but he needed little direction once he’d gotten the gist of James’s work.

Along the way, in this abbreviated time frame, P.J. had done something she hadn’t intended to do. She had gotten very attached to the young man. It wasn’t just the strong, youthful body and the handsome face. It wasn’t just the mind. In addition to these things, Brian was caring, nice, unselfish. His good nature had won her over more than she had cared to be won. He was not even as unfunny as she liked to believe. It simply made it easier to think about. To think about it being over. When his curly black hair and clear, calm blue eyes greeted her in the mornings, she wondered why she’d spent the last few years alone. So nice to have someone to wake up to.

But it could not, should not, be. As much as she liked the young man, P.J. knew that for his sake she had to turn him loose. His future, she felt, would be a successful one, and he didn’t need a woman as old as she was to hold him back.

Brian was, P.J. smiled at the thought, a very perceptive pupil in bed. He had been eager to learn, eager to please. There were definitely some high points to the last weeks. But it was time to move on. He deserved an adoring, patient, giving, sensitive, loving partner. She knew she was not it. Would not be it. A way would become clear. She felt it in her bones.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

P.J.’s office hours on Thursday afternoon were generally undisturbed by students. They tended to come either immediately before or after classes. Her door was open as she scanned the computer monitor’s screen, checking for e-mails that deserved her attention. She became aware of someone in the doorway and glanced up to see Savannah. This was the young woman she knew Brian had dated off and on. They had discussed her. In fact, during the last week, since P.J. had been thinking of how to extricate herself from this attachment, she had purposefully asked Brian about his dating habits. He was not as forthcoming as she’d hoped. She admitted to herself that she’d probably pushed it too much in an attempt to find a way out. A less hurtful way.

P.J. had not really been curious about Savannah, or the other one, what was her name, Julie, Julia? She had been fishing for some information to help her with what she knew was before her . . . the conversation about moving on. Her only thought was that she hoped neither of them was a twit. She hoped that they were not shallow. Hoped they had the sense to see this young man’s potential. Hoped that they knew how time consuming he might be and did not mind. In the long run, Brian would require someone who was intelligent, determined, devoted, and selfless.

As she appraised the girl before her, P.J. wondered if the confident, beautiful exterior reflected the interior. If so, Savannah could be a contender. She had long, wavy strawberry blonde hair that fell just to the shoulders. It was thick and shiny. Touchable. A mere sprinkling of pale freckles dotted her untanned, unlined face. P.J. wondered where else such freckles might appear. She was medium height, around 5′5″ or so, shapely, not stick thin and not overly round. She was attractively dressed, in style, but not overly exposed. A simple pale pink, v-necked t-shirt, revealing ample breasts, neatly tucked into a denim skirt. Strappy sandals barely covered her feet. Both finger and toe nails were splashed with a sparkling pink paint. The mouth, too. Pouty. Shiny. Just right.

What followed in the next seven or so minutes was one of the most remarkable conversations that P.J. had ever experienced. It was one of a mere handful of human communications experienced during a lifetime that takes place on a level so stripped of human foibles that actual words seemed superfluous. She believed that the conversation could have taken place via telepathy had she and Savannah known how to employ the technique.

P.J. had appraised the girl in seconds, the girl appraising the woman at the same time. She was not hesitant. She looked the professor in the eyes and introduced herself.

“Dr. Stewart. I’m Savannah McLaine. A friend of Brian Cane’s. May I speak with you? Privately?”

P.J. had already risen.

“Please,” she said as she swept her arm towards one of the empty chairs facing her desk. “Close the door and have a seat.”

Savannah turned halfway around to shut the office door, turned back, and had a seat. She kept both feet on the ground, did not cross them. She folded her arms at the elbows, leaned forward slightly, and placed them on the edge of the desk. Her face, the expression, was neutral, the voice modulated.

There was no pretense, no jealousy, no vacillation.

“I would like to know if you are ready to relinquish Brian now.” She looked the older woman squarely in the eyes.

The older woman’s eyes must have reflected something that the younger one understood.

“Relinquish?” the older woman asked, not feigning surprise at the use of the word.

“If you’d rather, then let go, not relinquish. Is that more suitable?” Savannah asked.

“You make it sound as if I’ve chained him up,” P.J. said, curious about the choice of words still.

“Well,” the girl continued. “In a way, you have.” Her look never wavered. She spoke again. “I know that you and Brian have been having sex for a while now. I know when it started. There was an immediate change in him. It took me about a week to find out it was you. I’ve given this plenty of time. So, what I want to know is whether or not you’re ready to give him up.”

P.J. did not hesitate but immediately answered, “Yes.”

Now Savannah’s face must have reflected something the older woman recognized. P.J. repeated clearly, “Yes,” and leaned forward, not folding her arms as Savannah’s, but with the forearms touching the top of the desk from the elbow down, finger tips pointing directly at Savannah’s chest.

“I am relieved you’re here,” P.J. continued. “In fact, I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure a way out of this.” There was no brutality or harshness in the statement. It was simple truth.

Savannah apparently appreciated the lack of complication.

“Good,” she said, still no emotional tinge to the voice. She leaned back in the chair only to retake the previous position almost immediately.

P.J. began to explain her statement. “I, well, I didn’t mean what I said to sound . . .”

A near imperial wave of her right hand and Savannah dismissed the explanation.

“No, no. I understand perfectly. I mean, I understand that you were not being vicious or anything.” She paused, but only briefly. “Do you mind me asking if you care for him?”

P.J. was a bit surprised by the question, a state that must have been communicated when one eyebrow arched.

“Oh. I think you know I didn’t mean that to sound . . . ,” Savannah attempted to explain.

“No. It’s O.K. You mean was I just fucking him . . . an old woman fucking a handsome young man.” P.J. looked the young woman directly in the face. “Do you think I’d have kept it up this long if that were the case?”

“No,” Savannah shook her head. “I . . . it’s just that I wanted you to care for him. I . . . well . . . I didn’t want him to be used.” She was sincere.

P.J. was happy with the girl’s response. She cared for Brian. They both did it seemed.

Savannah glanced down at her lap. When she raised her eyes again, they strayed to her left along the wall comprised of floor to ceiling shelves cradling hundreds of books. Her gaze went first to the top, then slowly made its way to the lowest shelf. She sighed. Not sadly. A simple sigh.

The young woman’s eyes turned back to the older one’s. The look was one of frankness. She licked her bottom lip, took a short, deep breath, and spoke.

“Would you teach me, Dr. Stewart?” She was in earnest.

“Teach you what, Savannah? I don’t understa . . .” P.J. did not complete the word. It struck her why the girl was here. Like lightning. She wanted to learn about sex.

P.J. leaned back in her chair, arms moving up to rest on it. The left hand came up to her forehead for a second then she ran her fingers through her hair, shook it out with the human comb.

She stood. Turned away from the girl and took the few steps that placed her in front of the large window. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass, palms turned outwards, resting on the wide ledge, then stepped her legs back, left then right, slightly spread. Her behind arched up.

Savannah took this opportunity to study the woman. Thick, dark hair, some gray sprinkled around. She usually wore the hair up, but today it was down, straight and shiny, a bit below her shoulders. She wore a slim, sleeveless dress. Pale green. It was not too short, but revealed shapely legs. Savannah marveled at the woman’s behind. It was firm and high. The arms were not mushy. There was something strong and soft about her all at the same time. She understood Brian’s fascination. She wondered what the behind would be like in the flesh.

She knew that the woman had understood her request, not at first, but now. She waited for the reply. She didn’t have long to wait.

P.J. turned to face the girl. She wanted her to recognize the extraordinary nature of what she’d asked.

“Do you understand,” P.J. asked slowly and carefully, her eyes on the girl’s, “what you’ve asked? It’s not too late to take back the question.” She left the girl an out.

“I know exactly what I asked. That’s why I came here. I already knew you were ready to let go. I watch you . . . I’ve been watching you. I see it. I’ve watched the two of you when you have coffee in The Cave. The way you look at him when he isn’t looking at you. Which, by the way, isn’t often.” There was no jealousy. Not a whit. “Men,” she concluded, “are not equipped to read things like that. At least,” she added, “men in love.”

P.J. continued to look at Savannah. Her eyes narrowed a bit then returned to a normal size, smiling. “And when did you first observe this look of mine?”

“Oh, I’ve been watching since I figured out it was you. I noticed the change about two weeks ago. I have to watch. I have a stake in this.”

Savannah spoke again when P.J. didn’t speak.

“I won’t mince words,” she said.

I guess not, P.J. thought to herself. You haven’t so far.

“Brian and I have slept together, but it was never as exciting as I thought it might be. And it wasn’t for him either. I could tell. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. I wasn’t a virgin, but I have very limited experience. He does,” she paused, “did, too.” She eyed the older woman differently for a second. “We haven’t had sex since the two of you started. In fact, I’ve hardly seen him.” The girl paused, grazed her fingers across her eyebrows, and continued.

“I want to be able to do what you do. To him.” It was a statement, not a request.

“Why?” P.J. asked. “Why do you want to?”

“I wondered if you’d ask.” Brief pause. “I knew the first time Brian and I met that I would be with him the rest of my life. I know how stupid that sounds. But I’m not some starry-eyed little freak. I just knew. That’s all.” Another pause. “I know what I can do for him.” She looked at the other woman defiantly for the first time in this extraordinary exchange.

“Oh, believe me,” P.J. said. “I know I don’t have what it takes. I’m too self-centered, too independent, too busy to spend my time helping him become what he’s meant to be. Not to mention the fact that I’m way too old for him.” P.J. reached over the desk to touch Savannah’s arm and shook her head from side to side. “I have no illusions about being able to fulfill that position. I have no desire to fulfill that position. I’m not strong enough.”

Savannah almost choked. The woman before her, she had concluded over the past weeks, was stronger than anyone she personally knew. She intended to be that strong one day.

“So, does that mean you’ll help me, teach me?”

“Let’s have some clarification here, please.” P.J. wanted to know exactly what Savannah expected.

“Do you want me to teach you, as in tell you things? Or, do you mean you want me to have sex with you, show you?”

Savannah shook her head negatively, then replied.

“No. Both. All. What I mean is that I want you to show me with Brian.”

“With Brian?” P.J. asked and shot up the eyebrow again. The girl nodded affirmatively. “Do you mean you want me to be a coach while the two of you have sex, or you want to watch while Brian and I have sex?”

Savannah, for the first time, looked mildly flustered. “I’m not sure. I think both.” She looked down, but for only a second.

Now P.J. leaned all the way over the desk. She cupped Savannah’s chin in her right hand, tilting it up.

“Are you very, very sure of what you’re asking? Have you played this thing out in your mind? Are you sure you are willing to do this,” P.J. inquired.

Savannah reached up with her left hand, took P.J.’s right one in her hand then let it drop. “Yes. It is exactly what I want and what we, Brian and I, both need. Maybe even you, too.”

Astute, P.J. thought. Perhaps I do need it too. Leave him in capable hands.

“Savannah. Don’t mince words with me now, please. Tell me whether what I’m about to say is what you mean, or not.” She placed both hands on Savannah’s cheeks. “Do you mean to be hidden, watch Brian and me have sex, then join us? Or, do you have some other scenario in mind?”

P.J. removed her hands, giving Savannah a chance to process the question. P.J. sat again.

Savannah looked at the woman. It was exactly what she had in mind.

“You have it just right. That’s what I was thinking. Can that be done? I mean, how?

“How what? Oh. You mean hide you. That’s easy,” P.J. returned. “You’ll simply arrive before he does. My closet door is not more than six feet from the bed. You can position yourself there and leave the door open enough to see when we enter the bedroom. After Brian and I start . . .” P.J. paused.

“Fucking,” Savannah supplied the word.

“Uh . . . yes.” P.J. wasn’t sure she liked that term applied to what she and Brian did, but . . . perhaps that’s what it was.

“Anyway, when you determine that Brian is distracted enough not to notice, then you can open the door wider and observe at a closer range.”

They looked at one another, knowingly. No words were spoken about the subject that was in both their minds. The older one spoke first.

“I’ll take care of it. He’ll believe that I’m the one. It’ll be fine.” P.J. assured her.

“Thank you,” Savannah said. “You’re O.K. with this?”

“Oh, yes. I’m fine.” P.J. admired the woman before her, admired her because she knew what she wanted. She would have it.

Savannah stood up, extending her right hand. P.J. stood again, reaching for the extended hand with her own. They shook.

“Be at my home between 7:00 and 7:15 p.m. tomorrow night. Brian won’t be there until around 8:00. Know where I live?”

“Oh, yeah. I know. I’ll be there.” Savannah stopped in mid-turn towards the door. She turned back. “Anything special I need to do? Know?”

P.J. smiled at her. “No. Just be sparkling clean and wear your sexiest underwear. It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing other than that.”

Savannah smiled back. “I can do that. I don’t have any really sexy underwear, but I can get some. See you tomorrow.” She turned and walked out, shoulders back, head up, assured in her measured gait.

P.J. shook her head side to side in wonder. This woman loved Brian very much. P.J. was glad. Her bones had been right. She wondered, rather excitedly, rather sadly, what tomorrow night would bring.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

7:05 p.m. Friday evening. The doorbell at the back entrance rang. P.J. went to the door, opened it, and ushered Savannah in. She looked fresh and a bit flushed. P.J. looked over the young woman’s shoulder. Good. No vehicle. As if reading her mind, Savannah smiled and said, “It’s not visible. It’s on the next street over.” She smiled again.

P.J. didn’t allow for small talk. She immediately led Savannah up the stairs to her bedroom, saying she wanted to show Savannah where to bestow herself until it was time for her to join them. They reached the bedroom and walked several steps inside.

When P.J. reached the door of the closet, she opened it. “You’ll be in here when Brian and I come upstairs. Leave the door open a bit, enough to see and hear through. When we get thoroughly engaged, go ahead and open the door enough for a better view.”

P.J. paused. Wondered if Savannah would be able to handle this.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, dear?” P.J. asked, studying the young woman’s face.

“Yes,” Savannah said immediately. “It’s something that has to be done. It’s something I want to do. Sex can’t be the way I’ve experienced so far. People wouldn’t kill for that. I want something to kill for.” She was emphatic, moving her arms and hands as she spoke.

The intensity surprised P.J. The young woman was serious. Serious. A good match for Brian.

“You won’t change your mind, will you? Feel strange? You already know we’ve been sleeping together.” She paused, then finished with another question to Savannah. “You’re all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m excited, really. I’m ready. I want to see. To learn. To know what he likes. I am very ready for this,” Savannah explained, again using her hands and arms for emphasis.

“Savannah. This is going to be, well, arousing. I mean, it’s going to arouse you if you’re not jealous.”
“I told you, I’m not jealous,” Savannah returned quickly. “Well, then, you’re going to get excited if you’re at all human. I want you to promise me though, promise me, Savannah, that you won’t allow yourself to get off. Don’t masturbate to orgasm. Save that for Brian, please. O.K.?” P.J. looked squarely in Savannah’s eyes to gauge the response that would follow.

“I don’t understand,” Savannah said. There was no guile.

“Just trust me. Don’t get off. Exercise will power.” P.J. gesticulated to the air. “Masturbate if you want to, but don’t masturbate to orgasm. It really should be Brian’s doing. And you’ll appreciate it more, too. Saving it for him. He deserves it after we’re being so deceitful, don’t you think?” She again scanned Savannah’s face for a reaction.

Savannah thought for a few seconds before she replied. “Probably. Do you think he’ll be so mad that he hates us both?”

“I don’t think so, Savannah. Not if we’re sincere. We are sincere, aren’t we? I want Brian to be happy. You want Brian to be happy. Right?”

“Right.”

“Then let us communicate our concern and sincerity.” P.J. invited Savannah to look into the large closet and continued her instructions for the evening. “You may be up here for a while. No need for you to get in the closet until you hear us come up the stairs. I’m not going to pounce on him the second he gets here. Amuse yourself in some way. There are books and magazines all over the place. I’ll make sure you hear us when we come up. You’ll have plenty of time to get inside. I’m going to leave the lights on as they are now so you’ll be able to see us.”

Savannah shook her head affirmatively.

“Are you sure about this? I’m giving you one last chance to back out. It’s a win-win situation for you, dear. Brian and I are over anyway. You don’t have to go through with this.” P.J. lightly touched the young woman’s arm to communicate her sincerity.

“Oh, yes, I do,” Savannah immediately responded. “Not just for Brian. For me. For both of us.”

“O.K.” P.J. took a long, audible breath. “Well, let’s prepare for this. Let me see the underwear.”

Savannah stared wide-eyed at P.J. The older woman smiled, bemused by the sudden shyness.

“Oh, god, Savannah. You have been so forthright up to this point. Are you going to turn shy on me now?” P.J. laughingly rolled her eyes as she finished the question.

Savannah looked at the floor. “I’m not very comfortable with my clothes off,” she admitted.

“Why?” P.J. asked. “You appear to have a wonderful figure.”

“I, well, I just am not comfortable with my clothes off. Like I said.”

“Savannah,” P.J. shook her head as she spoke, “you must learn to take off your clothes seductively. Men like that. You don’t have to do it all the time, but when the situation is right, you have to think like a stripper, sometimes like a prostitute. You’re in the bedroom, not the mall.”

She raised her hands, palms upward. “Take off your t-shirt and jeans. Let me see what’s under there.” She moved her hands up and down then allowed them to drop to her sides.

Savannah hesitated. P.J. gave directions again.

“Savannah, pretend that your very life, no, pretend that Brian’s life hinges on whether or not you can excite me by removing your clothes. Make me want you. This isn’t rocket science. It’s survival. Survival is much more important. Make me want to take you down to the floor.”

Savannah’s eyes widened as she sputtered, “But . . . but you’re a girl!”

P.J. grinned, half exasperated. “Oh, Savannah. That doesn’t make any difference. Sex is sex. With yourself, with a woman, with a man.”

The girl grabbed the hem of her t-shirt and jerked it up only to pull it back down quickly.

“No, no, no,” P.J. said. “Like this.”

The older woman looked Savannah seductively in the eyes, bit her bottom lip, shifted her weight from one foot to another, squirming in anticipation. She demurely took the bottom of her t-shirt hem in her fingers, constantly making eye contact with Savannah. Teasingly rocking her hips side to side the whole time, P.J. unhurriedly lifted the t-shirt up, and up, and up until her lacy pale blue bra was exposed. Savannah sucked in her breath. P.J. continued the upward pull. When the shirt was over her head, she tossed it behind her.

“Now you,” she said, as she turned around, retrieved the shirt and pulled it back over her head, smoothing it in place.

Savannah suddenly wanted this woman to see her new bra. She felt very sexy in it. It was a pale coral color, and she felt it complemented her complexion. The thong panty matched. But that was for later. She thought.

“Savannah. Remove your t-shirt, slowly, please,” P.J. directed.

She did as she was told, rocking her hips as she’d seen the older woman do.

“No,” she heard P.J. say. “Feel the movement, don’t imitate. Feel it. Close your eyes. Imagine Brian fucking you, rocking your hips.”

Savannah was slightly embarrassed.

“Savannah,” P.J. barked. “This isn’t going to work if you don’t really want it.”

“No, no, I want it,” the girl said quickly.

“Then imagine Brian. Do you desire him?”

“Yessssss,” Savannah slowly exhaled.

“Then focus on making him desire you, on showing your desire for him. How do you think a great stripper would remove her t-shirt?” P.J. asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Savannah answered. “I’ve never seen one, a stripper.”

“Good, lord. Well, go see one,” P.J. said. Then she added, “Soon.”

“Now, remove your t-shirt,” she continued.

Savannah closed her eyes, imagined not Brian but the woman before her as she removed her t-shirt very slowly.

“Good,” P.J. said, as she stood back and surveyed the bra.

“Very nice,” she nodded, scanning Savannah’s form. “Color is good. Cut is good. See through factor is good. Nice nipples,” P.J. observed.

Savannah glanced down, ill at ease.

“No,” P.J. said. “Don’t be embarrassed. You have very nice nipples. Haven’t you seen other women naked?”

Savannah nodded yes.

“Do you like all of the nipples you’ve seen?” questioned P.J.

“No.”

“No.” P.J. continued. “And why? Because some are attractive to you and some aren’t. You have beautiful nipples. May I see them, I mean without the bra?”

Savannah’s legs trembled a little. She felt warm, felt moisture between her legs.

P.J. didn’t wait for verbal permission. She reached inside the young woman’s bra and pulled the right breast over and out of the covering. Savannah’s nipples were medium rose colored, hard, and very protruding. They begged to be sucked.

“Are they sensitive,” asked P.J. She allowed her thumb and finger to move to the hard nipple as she asked the question.

The young woman moved back, startled.

“Don’t be skittish,” P.J. said. “Don’t you want Brian to enjoy your nipples?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, relax. Are they sensitive? They look it. Does it feel good when I pinch them?” P.J.’s fingers squeezed the young woman’s nipple, twirling it side to side.

Savannah felt electricity, lightning, radiate from her nipple outward. The feeling was more than she’d ever experienced before. She’d pulled at her own nipples, but no one else ever had. She answered P.J. concerning the sensitivity. “Yes. Oh, yes,” Savannah panted.

“Well, we’ll make sure that Brian pinches them, and sucks them, too. Hard. Do you like that?”

“I, well, I don’t know,” Savannah hesitated.

P.J. stepped closer to Savannah. She leaned down and took the nipple into her mouth. She sucked hard, making a smacking sound. Savannah, startled, moved away again, pulling the nipple from P.J.’s mouth. P.J. placed her left arm behind the young woman, held her to the spot. She found the nipple and sucked again, harder. Savannah felt even more moisture between her inner thighs.

Oh, god, what is she doing to me, Savannah thought. This isn’t what I wanted, is it? So hot. Why am I so hot? P.J. unexpectedly released the nipple and replaced the breast back into the bra.

“Now, let me see the panties. Thong, I hope?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Off with the jeans. Take your jeans off with your back to your man. Take your time. Wiggle back and forth. Make him wait. Don’t stand up and push them down until they fall. Bend over. Accentuate your ass. Don’t worry if it’s not perfect. He won’t care. Wiggle and ease them down. Now show me.” P.J. was motioning for Savannah to turn around as she told her what to do.

Savannah complied. She did better with the jeans than with the t-shirt. P.J. wondered why. Savannah faced P.J. again. The breasts were better than the behind. Oh. Maybe that was it.

“Savannah, do you think you have good breasts?”

“What?”

“Do you think your breasts are good?”

“I, uh, well . . .”

“Just answer the question.”

“Well, they’re ok. I’m not disappointed with them.”

“Of course you’re not! They’re beautiful! Show them off, dear. Flaunt them. I don’t mean in public. I mean for your man. For Brian. Make those things own him. Do you understand? Those nipples own him.”

P.J. was beginning to feel moisture between her thighs. The nipples were good. The breasts were good. They were round, full, and fairly large. They had, as Bob Seger said, points on their own, sittin’ way up firm and high. The aureoles were large, but not overly, not smooth but with tiny bumps. A sprinkle of those delightful freckles dusted the tops of the breasts.

Savannah shyly asked if the underwear was all right.

“Savannah, you’re ravishing. The color is perfect. Let’s add a bit of color to your cheeks. We don’t have much time before Brian gets here. Come here.”

P.J. took the girl by the arm and led her to the bathroom. When they reached the large mirror, P.J. pulled open a drawer and removed a small container of blushing powder. Next, she took a large, soft brush from a container on the counter.

She dipped the brush in the container, knocking off the excess powder on the side. She lightly touched Savannah’s cheeks with the color. She re-dipped the brush and bounced it between Savannah’s breasts.

“What’s that for?” Savannah asked.

“Just a slight blush, dear. It’s o.k.”

She continued. “Raise your head. I want to get some color on that neck.”

The young woman raised her head, exposing the long, white neck. P.J. wanted to lick it. Nibble it. Suck on the soft flesh. But she controlled her desire.

She applied the blush to the neck and replaced the brush in its holder. She took a hairbrush from the open drawer and began to brush the girl’s hair. It was awkward because she was taller than P.J.

“Sit. Sit down on the toilet, back facing me. Just straddle it.”

Savannah sat. P.J. pulled the long, thick hair to the back and brushed. She wanted both to soothe and excite the girl. Strange combination, but she felt the brushing would accomplish both.

P.J. noticed that Savannah was near imperceptibly rocking back and forth on the toilet seat. Well, one mission accomplished.

“Are you getting turned on, Savannah?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Are you turned on? Excited?”

“Yessss.”

“Are you wet?”

“Huhhh?”

“Are you wet, Savannah? Between your legs?”

“Yesssssss.”

“Pretty wet, or just wet?”

“Oh, verrrrrrry wet. Very.”

“Would you like to get off, Savannah?” P.J. leaned nearer the girl’s ear as she asked the question.

“Uh, you said I couldn’t. You said to wait. For Brian. You said.”

“Yes, I did.” P.J. saw that Savannah intended to give Brian the pleasure. “Good. Save it. Save it for him.”

Savannah’s rocking was more pronounced. P.J. continued to brush her hair, but stopped after several more strokes.

“I’m going downstairs now. Brian should be here soon. Remember. You don’t have to get in the closet until you hear us. And put your shirt and jeans in the closet. Just stay in your underwear. I’ll signal when I want you to come forward. You’ll know when. And, remember, don’t get off. O.K.?”

“O.K. but I’m really hot.”

“I know, I know. But it will be worth the wait. I promise. With me?”

“Yeah.”

P.J. turned to go, but glanced back at Savannah just before she exited the bedroom door. “One more chance, Savannah. Do you want to back out?”

“Noooooooo. No. I’m ready.”

“All right. I’m going down now.”

P.J. left the bedroom. She headed downstairs to await Brian. She expected him very soon. Brian tutored students in the Skills Enhancement Center located in the library. He got off work at 7:30 on Friday evenings. It usually took him twenty to thirty minutes to get here. 7:45. It wouldn’t be long. P.J. tried to calm her excitement. The thought of the hot young woman in her bedroom agitated her nerves. P.J. was quite aroused herself, ready to explode. And what of the young one above? How was she coping? Coping with not getting herself off as she had been instructed?

P.J. busied herself in the kitchen. Brian generally had a bite to eat when he got in from work. He didn’t normally eat large meals at night. She decided to prepare some nachos for him. Preparation complete, P.J. placed the nachos under the broiler. Just as she closed the oven door she heard a car in the drive. Brian.

Although the door was not locked, he knocked softly then entered. He looked beautiful, as usual. The long, dark, curly hair was brushed back behind his ears. The pale blue baby-checked button down Oxford shirt accentuated the darkness of his hair and the paleness of his blue eyes. The tight jeans hugged his round behind and muscular thighs. He smiled broadly as he approached her.

Brian loved coming home to this woman. He loved seeing her face light up when he put his arms around her. Tonight, she looked especially hot. He reached her and gave her a big hug. God, did he smell her? Smell her juices? His heart sank. Had she been with someone? Had she?

P.J. discerned what he was thinking. His questions, his doubts, his feelings were all over his face. She hugged him hard, then stepped back and looked at his face.

“Oooo. I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been hot for almost an hour,” she grinned, “but I’m going to control myself while you eat your nachos, which, by the way, are still in the oven, and then I’m going to have something to eat,” she emphasized the I’m. She threw him a lascivious look.

He smiled. “I don’t need nachos. Let’s just head upstairs.”

“No, no. You have to keep up your strength. I’m putting you through your paces tonight. You’ll need all the energy you can get.”

“I’m ready now,” he said, guiding her hand to his erect cock.

“Oooo. I see. But I insist.”

She removed the nachos from the oven, cheese now melted. She slid them onto a plate and handed them over to Brian.

“Whaddya want to drink? Milk? Water? Soda?”

“Uhh. What about a beer?”

“Sure. Whatever you want.” She reached in the refrigerator, retrieved a beer, opened it, and handed it over to Brian who had seated himself at the nearby table.

“What did you do today?” he asked as he stuffed the first nacho into his mouth.

“Oh, I ravaged a slew of people, robbed a bank, pillaged a department store, and sewed the button on those jeans you left hanging in the utility room last week. What’d you do?”

Brian smiled. She always made him smile. “Well, nothing like that. Mostly I’ve been thinkin’ of you.”

P.J. smiled back at him then glanced to the floor briefly. She knew it was time to bring it up again. Bring up the dreaded it’s over subject. She took a breath and tested the waters.

“Can we talk? I know that I’ve bothered you about this before. But this is important to me.”

“What? What do you want to talk about?”

“I want to talk about you and other women.”

“Oh, stop. I don’t want to talk about that.”

“But we’re going to.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Do you want to fuck tonight?”

He shot her a nasty look, the usually clear blue eyes suddenly cloudy. “That’s not fair. You wouldn’t.”

He didn’t know whether she would or not, but he didn’t want to chance it. “Why do you want to talk about other women? Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Of course not. You’ll have to be with another woman eventually,” she reasoned.

Brian sucked in his breath. He’d been waiting for something like this. How long could he hold this woman’s attention? He’d hoped it would last longer.

She continued the hateful conversation. “You have to start thinking about your future. You can’t be with me forever,” she stressed.

“Why?”

“Oh, please. Don’t be obtuse, Brian. You have a long future before you. You are going to have a successful career and a wonderful life. I will not be with you. You have to start thinking about that.”

“Why won’t you be with me?”

“Because I’m too old, silly. I can’t, won’t, keep up with you. I don’t want to.” She paused, smiled benignly at him, and resumed. “I’m not being ugly, sweetie. I simply don’t want to be that appendage that you need.”

Brian didn’t like the conversation and tried to change the subject. “Do you have any pickles?”

“You don’t eat pickles with nachos.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t change the subject. Brian, you knew when this started that it wouldn’t last, didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

He really didn’t want this to end, the conversation, yes. Them, no. Not now. Not yet.

Finally, he conceded. “Yes, I guess I knew. Well, maybe. I’m not sure.”

“Oh, I think you did. We both did.” She paused, then started again. “I adore you, Brian. But this thing has just about played itself out.”

He winced. She walked behind him and placed her arms around him. She hugged him to her, her head on his left shoulder. He wasn’t sure what to do. He felt empty. He reached around and pulled her easily into his lap. Not yet. He said it out loud this time. “Not yet.”

She smiled at him, trying to lighten the mood. “What are you afraid of, Brian? Not gettin’ any pussy?” She grinned.

Her comment angered him, clouded the eyes even more. His face showed his displeasure and he tightened his grip on her arms. “Don’t say that. Stop it. That’s not it at all and you know it. You know it.”

Umm. Not what she wanted. He was hurt. She hated seeing pain in those clear blue eyes. Hated seeing his face tighten.

“Brian,” she took his face in her hands, “I do not want to hurt you.”

“Well, you have.”

“But that was not my intention. I have loved our time together. But it’s time to move on. We have to think about the future. In ten years, you’re going to be visiting your child’s school on parent-teacher night and I’m going to be home soaking my dentures!”

He couldn’t help it. He hated it, but she’d made him laugh.

“Stop it. Will you just stop it? Quit it with the denture shit, will ya?”

“See, you giggled. It’s going to be all right. Now. I want to talk to you.”

She got up from his lap and sat in the chair next to his. “Tell me about Savannah and Julie.”

“Julia.”

“O.K. Julia.”

“Why do you want to know? What do you want to know?” he asked, exasperated with her tenacity.

“I want to know why you’re not dating them.”

“Because I’m seeing you.”

P.J. sighed, frustrated. “Why were you open to a fling with me?”

“This is not a fling.”

“O.K. Why did you come home with me on awards day?”

“I told you. I was pumped because of the award and no one else was around.”

P.J. feigned a shocked look and sucked in her breath. “Ohh, That makes me feel so special. No one else around,” she trailed off then stopped. He was stricken by what he’d said. How it sounded. “Oh, Brian. I was kidding! For god’s sake. I know what you meant.”

“Are you seriously asking me why I came home with you?” P.J. nodded and Brian continued. “You’re hot! Don’t you know that? I wanted to come home with you, come home . . . I wanted to know, to know what it would be like.”

“What what would be like? Having sex with an old woman?” P.J. grinned.

“Stop it. Don’t say old woman again.” He was serious, so she promised.

“Talk to me, Brian. You wanted to know what what was like?”

“Sex. Sex with an experienced woman.” P.J.’s look seemed to ask for more. “I thought if we had sex it would be pretty hot,” he finally got out.
“So, you think our sex is hot?” P.J. inquired.

“Oh, god, don’t you?” He was beside himself. “I, well, I thought you might like it, too.”

“Oh, Brian. Of course I do. You are, well, phenomenal. Period.” She planted a wet kiss on his lips. “Now, is sex with Julia and Savannah not that hot?”

“Uh, no.” He was reluctant to talk. P.J. entreated him.

“I haven’t had sex with Julia. I don’t like her enough for that. Well, that’s not it. I’m not as attracted to her as I am to you.”

“And Savannah? Are you attracted to her?”

“Well, yeah. But . . . ”

“But what?”

“Well, sex with her was not like with you.”

“Brian, do you think you know more about sex now than you did, say, six weeks ago?”

“Oh, god, yeah.”

“So you’ve learned something?”

“Yes, Oh yes.”

“Well, don’t you think if you can learn that Savannah could, too?”

“Ah, well, yeah, sure. Probably.”

“Yep. She probably could. I’ve seen her around, Brian. She’s very pretty. No, that’s not right. She’s gorgeous.”

He shook his head up and down. “Yesss. She’s very pretty.”

“Wouldn’t you like to do with her the things you do with me?”

He was shocked. “What’s wrong with you?” He shook his head, arms rising in the air. “How can you talk like that? Doesn’t that make you feel, well, weird?” He leaned forward, hands and arms in motion, signaling his exasperation.

“No. I know, as I just told you, that I’m not a factor in your future. I’m asking these questions because I care for you.”

He looked doubtful, pouted.

“I do care for you. That’s why I’m asking these questions. I want to see you in good hands. I want to see you happy. That’s why I’m bothering you.”

“You sure are botherin’ me. I wish you’d just stop.”

No use pushing it anymore. “Are you going to finish your nachos?”

“No.”

P.J. picked up the half empty plate and walked to the kitchen. As she placed the plate in the sink, Brian came up behind her, placing his arms around her waist. He nuzzled his cheek on her neck.

“Can we stop talking and go upstairs now? Please?”

“Sure.”

Brian waited for P.J. to finish up in the kitchen and took her hand. They climbed the stairs, side by side, P.J. giggling and talking loudly enough for Savannah to recognize their approach. As they entered the bedroom, Brian was determined to regain his good mood, the mood he’d been in when he first arrived. He also felt he’d be able to change her mind. He had for some time put off thinking about what she wanted to discuss. He had been so satisfied, happy, the last month or so. Yes, it was great sex. But it was other stuff, too. She was . . . she was . . . fascinating. Experienced, naughty, sweet, considerate. This had been the greatest experience of his life. She’d taught him so much. Not just in bed. Other stuff, too.

He wanted to make this a night to change her mind, but he knew even as he thought it that it would never be. He stared ahead. Her neck. That’s it. He loved her neck and she loved for him to kiss her there. As they neared the bed, Brian positioned himself behind her, took her in his arms. He began to nuzzle her neck, soothingly kissing and nibbling the soft flesh. He loved the way she moaned and positioned her head for him to get better access.

“You smell good,” he said to her, savoring the light vanilla aroma.

“Uummm. You, too.” Brian didn’t have a cologne smell; he always smelled freshly showered, and P.J. loved the clean, masculine scent.

Brian looked down over P.J.’s shoulder. She had on a short, light blue cotton t-shirt. It was soft and thin and her nipples protruded through her bra and the fabric of the shirt. His hands went up the front of the shirt, rested on her breasts, feeling the soft flesh and warmth. P.J. shifted her weight, pushed her behind into Brian’s crotch, wriggling it to feel his hardness.

Savannah, concealed behind the near closed door of the closet, could not directly see Brian’s hands, because of her limited side view, but she knew they were under P.J.’s shirt. Brian abruptly pulled the shirt up over P.J.’s body, her arms rising above her head to assist, and turned her around.

Savannah watched as he went down on his knees. He slowly undid the woman’s jeans, but he didn’t pull them down. P.J. shifted her position a bit and Brian moved to accommodate. Savannah realized that she’d done this to provide her, Savannah, with a better view.

Brian licked P.J.’s navel, delving his tongue into the crevice, then circling the tip around and around. His hands caressed her back, lightly stroked it as he slowly licked, lapped, kissed, and nibbled his way up her abdomen to her breasts. P.J.’s knees felt weak whenever his hot tongue touched her. As his hands continued up her back, he undid the bra and slipped it off slowly, let it drop to the floor. He sat back on his feet for a moment, gazed up at her adoringly. Savannah, too, stared at the woman’s breasts, the hard nipples. She felt more and more heat between her legs as she watched the couple before her.

Brian loved to tweak P.J.’s nipples and listen to her either giggle or moan, depending on her mood. Loved to chain them up as she’d shown him to. His eyes lowered and focused on her waist, well-defined. Placing his hands around it made him feel masculine, protective. He did so now, leaning his head into her mound, pressing his forehead to her through the jeans.

After this moment of visual and tactile appreciation, Brian stood up, turned P.J.’s back to him, and gathered her breasts into his hands. He began to massage their softness, their heat, as he urgently kissed her neck and shoulders. She moaned softly, then, suddenly, she moved away.

Savannah watched as P.J. bent over, her back to Brian still. She slithered, literally slithered, out of her jeans. Savannah half expected a hiss to issue from the woman’s lips. The removal of the jeans revealed pale blue panties, very sheer. She stepped out of the jeans, turned to Brian, her upper slit visible through the thin fabric.

God, Brian thought. He wanted to lick her, suck her until she screamed. Wanted to feel the heat of her nether lips with his own, feel the smooth skin, the wetness, wanted to smell it.

She returned to him, placed her arms around his neck, kissed him, insistently. One hand went to his crotch, the other on his back. His rigid cock strained against the fabric of his jeans. Now both her hands went to his back, rubbing up and down. She loved the hard softness of his body, the heat. Pulling the shirt from his jeans, she slipped both hands under the shirt in front, anticipating the feel of Brian’s muscular abdomen. Those abs. She placed her hands on his waist, then let the palms tickle up his belly to his chest, savoring the hardness, kneading, as the hands made their way up.

In a sudden flurry of arms, the shirt was unbuttoned as hot mouths kissed. Buttons, at least one, went flying. Savannah couldn’t tell how the shirt got off and onto the floor. Brian latched onto P.J.’s arms, turned her around where her back faced him. He hungrily pulled her panties down, and she stepped out of them as he sank to his knees again. Savannah caught her breath. The ass was good, as she had expected.

Brian bent the woman over the bed, her body forming a modified L-shape, her forearms resting on the sheets. Savannah watched intently as Brian placed his hands firmly on the cheeks of the woman’s ass. His fingers dug into the flesh as he squeezed them, then pulled them apart, then squeezed them again. His head went to the middle of the right cheek and he opened his mouth and bit her. She tried to squirm away, whimpered, but he held her tightly in place. Her moans quickened and became louder as he licked, nipped, bit, and sucked the cheeks of her ass. As Savannah observed them, Brian’s hand went between the woman’s thighs.

Brian swallowed as he felt her readiness. Hot, wet. His fingers slid into her slit, the cavity hugging them. Very wet. Brian’s left hand still gripped P.J.’s left cheek, keeping it pulled to the side. Savannah’s view of his right fingers was unimpeded. He plunged his fingers slowly in and out of her wetness. Brian’s breathing was audible above the woman’s groaning. She shoved herself on to his fingers, meeting them with backwards thrusts. Savannah’s own hands kept going between her legs. She finally had to sit on them to keep them from straying. The thong’s absorbent cotton crotch had long since soaked up more than its capacity allowing juices to roll down Savannah’s inner thighs and onto the carpet.

Brian pulled P.J. up and around rather roughly, pushed her on the edge of the bed, spread her legs widely. Savannah was puzzled as Brian turned away and began to walk around the end of the bed, continued to the other side. As he made his way around, P.J. moved to the end of the bed, presumably, Savannah thought, to allow a better view for her. Savannah felt safe now to open the door a bit wider. A chair? What’s he going to do with the chair, Savannah wondered. Brian had reached the chair on the other side of the bed, picked it up, and turned around.

Apparently, seeing that the woman had moved didn’t faze him. P.J.’s legs hung over the end of the bed. He halted and placed the chair directly in front of her. In what seemed one movement, he sat in the chair, grabbed P.J.’s thighs from underneath, pulled her up and forward, only her shoulders and neck still touching the bed.

P.J. placed her legs up and over Brian’s shoulders, locked on to him. God, Savannah thought. She doesn’t have any pubic hair, does she? Savannah strained to confirm what she thought might be a trick of the lighting. The woman’s locked legs balanced her over Brian’s body, freeing his hands which immediately found her nipples. He trapped them in his fingers, pinched them, pulled them, punished them. Savannah thought he might pull them off her body. But she responded by emitting even more pleasurable groans, her body twisting from side to side. As she moaned, she placed her hands, palms down, on Brian’s knees and used the leverage to push herself even closer to his mouth. She strained, breathing hard, mumbling low enough that Savannah could not make out her words, but Savannah assumed from the tone of the voice that the words constituted a plea.

Savannah wondered how long he would ignore the flesh pushing up to his face, but wondered only shortly. Brian’s left hand remained on the woman’s right nipple, but his right hand moved between her legs, his thumb circling her opening. She immediately replaced his now missing fingers on her nipple with her own, pulled it the way Brian’s still did on the right one. Her mouth was parted, breath coming quickly, still driving herself into his face, her wetness almost touching his lips.

Brian could see the juices glisten between P.J.’s legs, smell them. Her moans and writhing body drove him to taste her. He relinquished his other hand from her needy nipple and used all of his fingers to spread her apart, to open her up to his attention. Brian sniffed her excitement, groaned as he buried his face between her legs for a couple of minutes, tongue and nose burrowing into her flesh. When he raised his head, he used his thumbs to separate her upper lips, manipulate the hood, unfold, uncover her clit. Savannah’s eyes were wide. The woman’s slit was red, swollen, revealed to her when Brian’s head came up. His eyes closed as he lowered his tongue to her vulnerability. He unhurriedly sucked at her center, her being, alternating the attention from clit to hole, reveling in her responsive, wriggling body and welcome sounds.

Brian still pulled, held, stretched P.J.’s lips wide, and Savannah studied him as he pleasured the writhing woman, using his tongue to drive her into a visible and audible frenzy. The measured movement of his tongue up and down her slit, the noisy lapping, had the woman whirling, groaning, body pitching to and fro. Brian wanted to feel inside her again, positioned his left hand turned upside down at the top of her slit, and used his index finger and thumb to keep her opened up. Brian’s other hand went to her wet opening. His fingers slid into her, the movement accompanied by a low scream from the recipient of the stabbing. She pushed her pussy to him on every lick and stab.

P.J. couldn’t hold back any longer. She had been savoring these sensations, denying release, but Brian’s probing fingers and supple tongue, the hot hardness of his body, drove her closer to getting off with each second of his attention. Brian sensed P.J.’s impending orgasm. His tongue ceased traveling and focused on the clit and surrounding area, vibrating up and down, around, side to side. He circled her clit with the tip of his tongue, then moved it to lightly flick her clit directly with a movement so quick it was like a hummingbird’s wings on her desire. Finally, he splayed his tongue wide, held it stiff, still. She began to ride it, ride it like a cock. Savannah sucked in her breath as she watched the woman buck and jerk, moaning and hissing her way to release.

Savannah couldn’t remember ever feeling so hot. She watched, fascinated, as Brian feasted on the woman. He ate her so tenderly, so excitingly. And now she rode his stiff, hard tongue, moaned and spat out her breath, persisted in pushing her pussy to him. Suddenly, her body stiffened, her legs went straight and still, stretched out over Brian’s shoulders. She began to gasp, hunh, hunh, hunh, hunh, then shudder, tremble. She shook from top to bottom and back again several times over. Brian’s hands and fingers went to her hard nipples and he pulled them furiously. His head, tongue, remained between her thighs, moving, grinding from left to right. Savannah couldn’t understand how he was getting air. The woman had bent her legs at the knee and clamped them around Brian’s shoulders so tightly that his head was caught, trapped in a vise like grip. The woman’s moans and grunts turned to one long, guttural scream that progressed from low and growling to loud and howling. Savannah thought she would explode along with the woman she was so wound up.

Brian’s hands left the red nipples he’d been pinching and placed them on P.J.’s thighs, pulled them apart enough to raise his head. The scream had died away and P.J. was talking. What was she saying? Savannah could barely make it out. What? Oh, she’s saying fuck me, Savannah thought.

Brian stared down at P.J., pulled her legs from over his shoulders and bent them to rest her feet on the tops of his thighs, his palms resting on her feet. She was limp, pliable. He felt, enjoyed, the power of making her this way, gloated over her now whimpering form. He leaned over to catch the low words.

“Fuck me, fuck me,” she breathed heavily. “Please.” She repeated it.

Brian’s eyes narrowed, made sure she was looking at him before he growled, “You want it?”

She nodded her head yes. Eyes pleading.

“Say it,” Brian ordered.

“Please fuck me. Yes, yes, please.” When she got no response, her head turned side to side in supplication, and she raised up to look Brian in the eyes. “Please fuck me, fuck me. Shove it in me. Now.” She looked, to Savannah’s eyes, desperate.

Brian’s hands left P.J.’s legs, one coming to his face to wipe away some of the juices, the other going to P.J.’s face. He took her chin in his hand and finally responded.

“You want me to fuck you now?” he asked unhurriedly, prolonging her wait.

“Yes, now, NOW.”

Brian didn’t comply.

He stood. Pushed the chair away from the bed. She continued to look up at him, her feet now on the soft carpet. Her eyes entreated him, her mouth slack, half open.

“Suck me,” Brian ordered. “Suck my cock.” He held his cock in his right hand, his left hand went behind her neck, pulling her up and her mouth closer to him.

P.J. didn’t resist. Her hand enfolded his purplish red, swollen cock, prepared to suck it with love and desire. To Savannah’s astonishment, the woman let go of Brian momentarily and shoved her hands between her legs. Suddenly she withdrew them both and rubbed her juices on Brian’s cock. Savannah was mesmerized. The woman had touched herself in front of him. More than touched herself. Did Brian like that?

P.J. used both hands to moisten Brian’s cock, wanted to taste herself. She then enveloped him with her hot hand, moved it seductively up and down. Her other hand went around to grab his ass. She kneaded it, forcing Brian’s body forward as he reacted to her touch. Encircling his cock with fingers near the base, P.J. opened her mouth to engulf it. Brian watched as the head of his cock disappeared into her mouth. Her mouth on his cock made him weak. It was hot and moist. She blew hot breath on him. Vibrated her tongue. He also loved it because he knew, could feel, that she wanted to do it as much as he wanted her to. He placed his hand on the top of her head, lightly, not forcefully. His other hand went to her nipple. Hard. Still hard.

As he tweaked, pinched her nipple, he was spellbound as her head went up, down, around, sideways on his cock. One of the fingers of her hand on his ass had found its way to his anus. She toyed with it, making firm circles around the opening, teasing him with occasional shallow plunges inside. He involuntarily spread his legs wider. Brian’s legs quavered, the sensations making him weak. He raised his other hand to join the one on her head, pulled her gently away, up, let her know he was near. She looked up at him, eyes questioning. She spoke, haltingly.

“Fuck me? Fuck me now? Now?” She looked down at the stiff cock, then up again. “Or, more?”

“No,” Brian’s head shook from side to side. “Fuck now. Now.” He pulled her up to standing, breathed hotly in her ear. “How do you want it?”

“From behind, behind,” she barely got the words out before she pushed Brian back a step, turned, and fell across the bed in a diagonal position forcing herself to remember to play to the audience of one. Their position had to be accessible to Savannah. She flickeringly, but only so, wondered how the young woman was doing. In fact, Savannah had been forced to sit on her hands for quite some time now. She did, however, rock back and forth, cross legged on the closet floor.

Brian followed P.J. onto the bed. He came up behind her, on his knees, admiring the ass yet again. He placed his hands on the cheeks, pulled them apart, bent down and bit them again, left then right. So firm, so warm. They still bore the marks of his earlier bites. The imprints of his teeth excited him even more and P.J. moved her body forward and back, rocking and arching up and down. Brian finally lifted his head and P.J. turned hers back to look at him. He smiled, smiled and placed his left hand on her left pelvic bone and guided himself into her with his right one. She curved back into him, hissing as she took him inside.

Brian’s head went back. She felt tight, warm, wet. As he lowered his head, his other hand went around, joining the other in holding her by the hipbones. When she sucked him in with her muscles he trembled. Her breathing quickened, he distinctly heard it, as he rhythmically pumped, drove into her. Their own sounds mingled with the sound of his cock sliding in and out of her. Brian watched, enthralled by the sight beneath him, her slit filled with him, shiny with her juices. He knew she would soon reach for her clit, desire another orgasm as he slapped into her body from behind. He wasn’t going to let her tonight. Not tonight. He shoved into her with resolve. Shove. Lift her up off the mattress. Shove. Lift. Shove. Lift. Her noises made time to the shoving.

P.J. relished the pleasure of the thrusting cock. Brian’s grip tightened on her hipbones. She struggled, but couldn’t move. His grip trapped her still, his cock impaling her relentlessly. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Her head rolled, air forced from her body each time Brian jammed her insides. When Brian’s rhythm increased, P.J. could barely gasp out to him.
“I . . . I . . . I want to ride you,” she panted. “Please. Please let me ride.”

Brian swallowed. Purposely slowed his pace. Yes, he thought, watch her ride. His breath was ragged. “Yes,” he breathed and pulled out.

She quickly turned, before he could blink. She waited for him to lie down, assisting him in placing pillows beneath him. She stared at him, stared with greedy eyes, greedy lips. She spread his legs apart and moved her knees between his legs. She bent down, placed her mouth on his, kissed him passionately, deeply, as if it were the last time. He returned her kisses, clamping her to his chest. Holding her to him.

When she pulled away, she quickly turned around, got to her knees again, and straddled Brian’s body. As she reached around and guided his cock into her wet slit, Brian’s eyes widened and his hands went to her waist. P.J. slid down on him, savoring the way his cock throbbed inside of her. She bent over, circled his ankles with her hands. In this position, Brian could both see her ass and experience the excitement of watching her pussy sucking him in. Her kneaded her supple ass cheeks, more bite marks visible now. He knew when she released his right ankle that her hand was headed to her clit. Brian forestalled her, moved the hand away with enough force for her to know not to touch. She moaned, tried again.

Again, he prevented her releasing herself. She moved her left hand to his cock, her finger and thumb around the base, prolonging his hard on. She rode him, rode him ’til he thought his head would explode. When she finally released his cock, he was near delirium. They undulated, swayed, until he had spewed every droplet of his load in her hot opening.

P.J. sat up, still impaled on Brian’s cock. She arched backwards. Brian reached in front of her, fondled her still hardened nipples. She was breathing hard, hard from desire to come again. He leaned up, balancing on one elbow, whispered to her, “Do it for me. Get yourself off for me.”

She lifted herself up and off of him, cupping one hand between her legs to catch the juices. She left the bed in one movement, made her way to the bathroom, grabbing a towel and swiftly returning to the bed. Her hand still cupped between her legs, she threw the towel to Brian. As he mopped up some of the juices on his pelvic area, she straddled him, facing him. Her hand came out from between her legs. It was drenched and shiny juices ran down her inner thighs. She shoved the fingers in her mouth, sucked them noisily, then placed her right hand fingers in her upper slit, began to massage and moan. Her left hand went behind her and down, spread her lower lips wide so Brian could see closely as she rubbed herself with the right hand.

Brian tossed the towel to the floor, hands reaching for P.J.s breasts, his eyes huge as he watched the woman before him bring herself to orgasm. She had no self-consciousness about her. She writhed, wriggled, slithered on the hand as if it were a lover. She inched nearer and nearer to Brian’s face as she got closer to getting off, her face reflecting her lust. Brian didn’t know where to fix his gaze. So much to see. Her hands, her nipples, her face. Momentarily, he stared as her tongue came out of her mouth, licked first her upper then her lower lip, over and over. He glanced down, eyed the swollen clit, delighted in her hissing moans. Nearing orgasm, she stood, stood all the way up and placed her left hand out to balance on the wall. She walked forward, squatted between Brian’s upper chest and chin. She stayed high enough for him to see her, but close enough for him to smell her, feel the heat. Brian stared as the juices dribbled down both inner thighs. She was so engorged, so tight.

Brian reached up and grabbed her thighs, held them, then moved up to hold P.J.’s arms. Her closed eyes abruptly opened. “Wait,” he whispered hoarsely. “Wait.” She looked at him, confused, on the edge. “Wait,” he instructed again.

Savannah felt as if her own head would explode. Her neck was stretched to the extent of its length. She was astounded, and very excited, to see the woman masturbating over the young man. He clearly enjoyed it. She had only an angled view of P.J., but could see Brian’s face clearly. Why had he asked her to wait?

Brian reached down, under the bed. P.J. suddenly understood his meaning and her eyes widened, but with pleasure. Brian had reached down to retrieve the toy box. He brought it up and placed it on the bed beside him. He opened it and pulled out a nipple chain, taking a clip into each of his hands. P.J. sucked in her breath, but not in fear. She smiled a huge smile, bent down and kissed Brian wetly. He hurriedly pushed her up and away, fastening the chain’s clips first to the left, then the right nipple. P.J. screamed with joy when Brian smiled up at her and lightly pulled the chain. Her head went back and she moaned. Brian ordered her to finish herself off and she resumed her former stimulation.

Savannah could not see P.J.’s nipples, but she could see Brian’s face. That was all she needed to see. He was in awe of the woman before him. Chains. Clips. How would that feel? Savannah had seen the apparatus as Brian pulled it from the box. Her own nipples felt they were going to explode. Sitting. Still sitting on her hands. She couldn’t wait much longer.

P.J. got off soon after Brian had attached the clips. She moaned, fucked the air, and Brian took the very tips of her nipples between his fingers as she shuddered. Her moans became loud and long, her ‘oh’ turning into one long, low scream of enjoyment. Her lower body visibly bucked and jerked. When she finally was still, Brian pulled her down to him, his hands behind her neck. He kissed her gently, lovingly. “Off now?” he asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Too tight?”

“No, good. Very good.”

He removed the clips from her nipples and dropped the chain into the box. She leaned down, her breasts on his chest. She raised her head and kissed him, reached around and felt for his rigid cock. He was hard, hard and ready again. Time for Savannah. P.J. deliberated, hesitated, had second thoughts when she thought about letting him go. But the second thoughts disappeared went she looked into the smiling blue eyes. She must let him go. There was no choice.

Brian placed his hand over the one that rested on his cock.

“My turn,” he said.

“Yes, yes it is. But not with me.”

He looked confused, but then his eyes widened and he smiled.

“Ohhh. You want me to jerk off for you, is that it?”

He continued to smile, but she interrupted.

“No, that’s not what I mean.”

“Then, what?”

P.J. turned away from him. She spoke to the wall. “Savannah, come here, please.”

Brian’s eyes widened as he saw Savannah, his Savannah, come forth from the closet. He sucked in his breath. She was watching? Watching all this time? Oh, god, how . . . how what?

“Savannah,” P.J. directed with voice and arm, “go the bathroom, wet two washcloths with warm water and bring those and a towel with you.”

Savannah hesitated.

“Go on,” P.J. said. “The cloths are on the counter, the towel on the rack. Make sure the cloths are warm, ok?”

“Uh . . ok.” Savannah headed to the bathroom. She turned on the water and reached for the cloths.

Brian watched as Savannah performed the task, confused, heart beating. What did this mean? What did this mean? And then he knew. She was handing him over. Handing him over to Savannah. He looked at P.J. She was looking at him. Directly. Her eyes were sad. Very sad. Tears brimmed on the edge, but she quickly turned around, admonishing Savannah to hurry.

Brian’s head shook side to side. “No,” he said. “No.”

She turned to him, but only briefly. She was trying not to let him see her eyes, her tearing eyes. “Yes, baby. This has to be. Has to be.”

“Why? Why? I don’t understand,” he argued.

She had turned away, but turned back to him again.

“Yes. Yes, you do.” She stopped, took a deep breath, resumed. “I am more than twice your age. This just can’t be, baby. It just can’t. You know that. Savannah has been wonderful. She knows. About us. Obviously. She cares for you very much. She can be with you, be with you for a long time.”

P.J. turned her face to the bathroom, hiding tears about to spill over the edge of her eyes. Savannah emerged from the bathroom and quickly neared the bed. Brian felt odd. Not uncomfortable. Simply odd. He didn’t want to be handed over. But he knew P.J. was not going to change her mind. His hard on was gone. Gone. Gone like her. Like she was.

“Savannah,” P.J. instructed, “sit here, here on the edge of the bed.” P.J. took one of the damp cloths from Savannah.

“Watch,” she said. P.J. took the cloth, positioned herself nearer Brian, and tenderly cleansed Brian’s mouth, then chest, then genital area. She spread his legs and wiped the precious parts with the warm cloth. She then gently dried him. Brian could hardly bear her touch. He knew this would be the last time he would feel this, feel her touch. The moment she removed the towel from between his legs he took the other cloth from Savannah’s hand. He gently rolled P.J. over on to her back.

Savannah felt detached, unusual, like an intruder, an interloper. She hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected such a loving relationship between Brian and this woman. This was . . . was . . . heartbreaking. She started to rise from the bed. Brian was moving up onto his knees between P.J.’s legs. P.J. touched Savannah’s arm with her hand, looked her in the eyes and shook her head back and forth. “Stay,” was all she said.

Brian repeated the washing procedure on P.J. He spent at least a minute each on P.J.’s breasts and nipples, red from the nipple chain clips. When he finally spread her legs, Savannah got to see up close what she had earlier seen from her closet vantage. P.J. was indeed shaven smooth, not a hair on her lips. No wonder Brian had spent so much time there. He pulled P.J.’s thighs up and over his bent ones, exposing her to him. He lovingly wiped her from clit to anus.

She smiled sweetly up at him, then turned to Savannah. She took her hand. “Are you ready?” she asked the young woman.

“I . . . I . . .dunno. I feel . . . I dunno.” She looked at P.J. then at Brian.

Brian turned away. P.J. reached up, placed her hand on Brian’s cheek to turn his face back to her.

“Brian, Savannah is a wonderful young woman. She has proven to me that she really cares for you. Although it’s true that your relationship, should one develop, may not last forever, if it does you can work to keep one another happy.”

Brian rolled over to the other side of the bed, pulled one of the pillows with him, leaned back against the headboard. He stared at P.J. She stared back. Hard and soft. Hot and cold. Strong and weak. He read it in her eyes. Saw it clearly. How this hurt her. How could he help? Make her not hurt? He thought. Do as she wished?

Could he do it he asked himself. Close your eyes, he silently said. Let it come. She’ll take care of it if I don’t resist. That’s my job. Don’t resist. He stared at the wall before him.

“Savannah, come here and lie back.” P.J. guided Savannah’s body toward the headboard and leaned her back on to the remaining pillows shoved up against the headboard. Savannah’s ardor had cooled, too, at the sight of the tenderness between the couple. She hoped the woman knew what she was doing.

P.J. came closer to Savannah, now on her knees.

“Do you like the way I’m shaved?” she asked the wide-eyed young woman.

Savannah nodded yes.

“Do you want to get a closer look? Feel?”

Savannah blinked. Blinked again.

P.J. took Savannah’s hand and placed it between her spread legs. Savannah marveled at its smoothness. She stroked the woman. Brian’s eyes opened and he turned his head to them when he heard P.J. moan.

God. Savannah had her hand between P.J.’s thighs. P.J.’s head was back, belly pushed forward.

P.J. took Savannah’s hand in hers, pressed it harder into her wetness. She withdrew Savannah’s hand and brought it to her own lips, sucking her juices from Savannah’s fingers. She smiled at Savannah, made slurping sounds as she licked the fingers.

Savannah immediately placed the fingers of her other hand into P.J.’s slit, worked them in and out, marveling at the tight fit, then pulled them out and slowly raised them to her own mouth.

Savannah couldn’t believe her own bravado. What would her juices taste like? She placed first one finger, then both in her mouth. Hmmm. Good. It tastes good. Do I taste like that, Savannah thought. The fingers of her other hand now headed to her own slit. She was beginning to get aroused again. Although her mental mood had cooled, the last half hour of watching Brian and P.J. had left her very wet.

As soon as P.J. realized what Savannah was about to do, her hand went to Savannah’s panties. She grabbed the edge of the panties that rode between Savannah’s lips and pulled the thin material to the side. She took Savannah’s right leg with her other hand and moved it farther out to the side. She stroked Savannah’s inner leg, talking to her the whole time.

“Do you want to taste your juices, Savannah?”

Savannah’s fingers had already reached her swollen lips. Her fingers eagerly disappeared and then reappeared. Her hand went quickly to her mouth and she placed her fingers inside. Her eyes widened as she tasted her liquids for the first time.

“Good?” P.J. asked.

Savannah nodded yes as she continued to suck her fingers. P.J. continued to stroke Savannah’s inner thigh. She moved her fingers from the panties to the young woman’s mound and began to massage Savannah through the thin fabric of the panties. Savannah’s golden red pubic hair was not plentiful. Little wisps peeked out above the top of the panty, inviting visitors in. She stared at P.J. as the woman rubbed her. She’d never had a woman touch her there before, but she’d thought about it since earlier when P.J. had sucked her nipple.

Brian’s attention was now fully on the two women. He turned on his side, fascinated at what was unfolding and what might unfold before him. Just when Brian thought P.J.’s hand might pull down Savannah’s underwear, she stopped the movement and both hands moved up to cup Savannah’s breasts through her bra.

Savannah made a small noise. Her belly and pelvis lifted slightly off the bed. P.J. leaned down, moved one hand to turn Savannah’s head to the side, and softly kissed her neck. As she began licking, Savannah’s soft noises grew louder. P.J. licked the neck, the chest, working her way to the breasts dusted with freckles. When she reached inside the bra and pulled out Savannah’s right breast, it was Brian’s turn to make a noise. Savannah’s nipple was as hard as any he’d ever seen. He’d certainly not seen hers this protruding before. He felt his desire returning.

P.J. glanced at Brian, gauging his reaction to the nipples. Yes. Bingo. The Achilles nipple. Savannah still stared at P.J., trying to guess what might come next. Savannah’s desire had returned, and every time P.J. touched her she rose up from the waist down, reaching for fulfillment. She had been so beside herself in the closet, and now she thrilled to the woman’s touch.

P.J. reached into the other side of Savannah’s bra and gently unveiled the left breast, glancing over at Brian, offering up the nipple to him as he stared at it.

“Don’t they need to be sucked?” was all she said.

Brian’s eyes met P.J.’s. Hers were unfathomable. Is this what she wants? He didn’t know what to do. He was lost. He didn’t want to lose this woman, but knew she’d determined that what they had was over. Brian decided to follow P.J.’s lead, tune in to her wishes. He blinked and gave an almost imperceptible nod with his head.

P.J.’s mind was reeling. This was much, much harder than she had anticipated. Too late now. Too late to turn back now. And what would be the point? It would have to end anyway. Why not now? Now before it reached the point where the parting would be unbearable? Those eyes. How she would miss those frank, loving eyes. The gentle touch. The not so gentle touch when it counted. She hoped that this last-second confusion was not apparent on her face. She took a breath and led the way.

Her mouth went to Savannah’s right nipple and she sucked it hard. Brian hesitated for a moment. Savannah moaned, then moaned even louder as Brian’s mouth came down to her other nipple. She felt her nipples were on fire and the heat spread, spread quickly, between her thighs. Savannah wondered if she would ever feel normal again. She was so hot, hotter than she’d been at any point this evening, at any point in her life . The sucking, licking, nipping was driving her crazy, but their bodies blocked the way of her hands relieving herself. She desperately wanted to get off.

As Savannah’s desire increased, the volume and number of her moans increased also. Her body rocked and rocked and rocked. After what seemed hours to Savannah but was a matter of less than half a minute, P.J. moved Brian’s left hand between Savannah’s thighs.

He continued teasing the protruding nipple, enjoying the noises coming from the recipient of his attention. Her panties were wet; her inner thighs were wet. Now what? What’s P.J. doing? He glanced to the left to see her moving away from Savannah’s nipple. She moved down, took the sides of Savannah’s panties in her fingers, pulled them down Savannah’s legs and over her feet, and threw them behind her.

The moment P.J. moved, Savannah’s hand went for the now unattended nipple. She pulled and twirled it, her body now making quarter turns from side to side. Brian’s hands found their way inside Savannah’s ready slit and her moans turned into gurgling sounds.

“Yesssss. Yessssssssss,” she moaned, continuing to rock and turn. Again, P.J.’s movement caught Brian’s peripheral vision. She was reaching for the toy box. On her knees still, she moved back up closer to Savannah as she pulled the nipple chain from its usual dwelling. When Savannah realized what P.J. was holding up in front of her, her body near convulsed. Brian didn’t know whether Savannah was about to fight to keep the clips away from her nipples or to get them on. His question was soon answered.

“Oh, god, god. Put ‘em on. Put ‘em on. I want to feel ‘em. Please.”

P.J. looked at Brian, nodded for him to take one of the clips, which he did. At the same time, they attached the clips to Savannah’s already red, swollen nipples. She screamed, screamed with delight when she felt the pressure. Oh. Oh. She didn’t think anything could feel this good.

P.J. motioned for Brian to straddle Savannah’s chest. She leaned in toward Savannah’s right ear.

“Look at his cock, Savannah. Do you want it? Want to lick it? Suck it?”

Savannah’s head bobbed up and down in an affirmative answer. Words wouldn’t come from her mouth. The pleasure produced by the clips was so overwhelming that all she could do was nod. Brian took his cock in his right hand, guided it to Savannah’s already open mouth. She gulped at the cock, trying to get it in as deeply as she could. Her hands went around to Brian’s hard, round ass and she grabbed the cheeks, pushing him into her.

This time, Brian didn’t see what P.J. was doing because his back was to her. He only knew after Savannah emitted a loud growl, muffled only by his cock in her mouth, and her body bucked up and down. He turned his head to see what was happening. P.J. had taken another toy from the box, a gel dildo, and had begun to pierce Savannah’s swollen slit. Savannah began to suck him much faster, her near strangled noises grew louder and had now really changed to growling. He reached back and down and tugged the chain that ran between the two clips on Savannah’s nipples. The growl grew, her head went back and deep into the pillow, releasing his cock from her mouth, and the growl made a crescendo into a wild shriek. A series of shrieks as Brian continued to tug the chain and P.J. continued to pummel Savannah’s opening with the dildo.
Savannah’s head tossed from side to side on the pillow. She was beside herself, couldn’t see straight. She had to get off. Had to. P.J. moved up in the bed, whispered to Brian, and he moved down between Savannah’s legs. Oh, hurry, she thought, hurry.

P.J. held the dildo in Savannah, moved up and whispered in her ear. What, Savannah thought? What was she saying? Telling her to say it. Say what? Say out loud what she was thinking. Wasn’t she saying it out loud? Out loud, P.J. said yet again.

“Godddddddddddd. Lick me. Lick my pussy. Lick it,” Savannah heard herself say.

Brian’s thumbs went to Savannah’s lips. He pulled her flesh apart, exposed her need. He waited before he plunged in with his tongue, using his thumbs to massage, pull, twist the lips and excite her clit.

“Oh, god, god, god, god,” Savannah moaned as her excitement built even more. Her body squirmed, rolled. Brian prolonged the excitement. Rather than relieving Savannah, he took into his mouth her right lip near the clit and lightly sucked it. P.J. tugged on the nipple chain, asking Savannah if it felt good. Savannah didn’t know what felt better. Didn’t know what she wanted most.

“Ohhhhhhhh. Goddddddddddddddddd,” Savannah groaned. “Uhn, uhn, uhn. Eat it. Eat my pussy. Get me off, pleeeeeeeeeeeeese. Brian, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese,” she now begged Brian. The dildo was still inside her, pumping her when P.J. was not busy with the nipple chain.

Brian did not heed her wish. He didn’t allow Savannah to rock anymore, grabbed her upper thighs and held her tightly. He continued to lick and suck her lips, changing from side to side, working his way down to her opening, enjoying her squirms and moans and pleas. P.J. removed the dildo, still wet with Savannah’s juices, and held it to the wriggling young woman’s mouth. Savannah greedily licked her taste from the dildo as P.J. tugged the chain, stimulating Savannah’s nipples even more.

Finally, Savannah’s moans and pleas became so urgent that Brian complied with her desires. He released his hands from her thighs and exposed Savannah’s clit with the fingers of his left hand, drove the fingers of his right hand into her slit, and lowered his tongue onto her quivering, expectant clit. He lapped her. Savannah began to scream, screamed in unadulterated pleasure. Brian’s excitement had grown with the young woman’s. He shifted his right thigh over her left in an attempt to still her body and continued to lick, savoring the taste, the texture, her shaking body.

Savannah orgasm soon ensued, slow and long, and was intensified by P.J.’s removal of the nipple clips at the right moment. When P.J. realized that Savannah was getting off, she removed the clips and lightly licked the nipples, not sucking, simply licking, soothing them. Savannah’s body shook during her orgasm, shook her into near stupor.

The young woman lay limp on the bed. Her eyes were shut, mouth partially opened. She was breathing hard, still softly moaning. P.J. looked at Brian, leaned her mouth to his ear, and whispered for him to fuck Savannah. She reached to get a pillow, handed it to him, and he busied himself positioning it under Savannah’s wilted form. Once elevated, he impatiently crammed his fully engorged cock into her swollen flesh, leaned down over her, hands supporting him on either side of her shoulders. She moaned, but did not open her eyes or move. Savannah almost blacked out as Brian pushed himself farther and farther inside her with each thrust.

Brian’s need for release had continued to grow after Savannah’s orgasm. His mood, the ending of his and P.J.’s relationship, the immediate future, coalesced to make him more careless than usual, more forceful. He wasn’t fucking Savannah, wasn’t really fucking anyone. He was just moving, powerfully, to some form of liberation. He plunged and plunged into her, seeking deliverance from the pain, the heat, the anger, the sadness.

Savannah had never felt so full, so satisfied, never thought it possible. She couldn’t move, but not from lack of desire. Brian was pummeling her. He felt so good. The fucking felt so good. Brian rose up on his knees, reached behind and pulled Savannah’s legs up over his shoulders. She loved the feel, loved his thrusts deep into her, loved the way his body moved hers with each thrust. He propelled his body to hers, seemed distracted. She stared, stared at his chest, his lean, muscular stomach, his curly hair spilling over his shoulders. God, she thought, he’s so beautiful. So beautiful.

Brian continued to mindlessly pump. He was near, very near orgasm. His hands were locked on Savannah’s thighs, forcing her ankles to ride on his shoulders. The speed of his thrusts increased, his breathing got more shallow and faster. His head went even farther back making his chest muscles more prominent. Savannah roused herself to movement. She tried to ride with his movements, tried to shove her pelvis upward to meet his, but her lack of strength disallowed anything more than what an observer might describe as less than half-hearted. It was not, however, what she felt.

Brian’s hands, palms to her skin, clutched Savannah’s thighs, fingers digging into flesh. He drove into her, screaming his release. He pumped until exhaustion overtook him, minutes after his orgasm was over. Brian finally opened his eyes, looked at the ceiling, killing time before he looked down at the woman beneath him. When he finally did lower his head, his first thought was to look at P.J.’s face. What would he see there? Did he want to see? But there was no P.J. She was not on the bed anywhere.

The instant that Brian had started placing the pillow under Savannah’s behind, P.J. had rolled off the bed and headed to the bathroom. She didn’t want to intrude in this coupling, she said to herself. But she knew she was lying. She knew that the truth was more simple, less altruistic. She just didn’t want to see him with her anymore. It occurred to her that she would not have be