The Second Post

M is a married woman. Wed to a semi-prominent family in the Business. A gorgeous, renaissance beauty with Guinevere hair and alabaster skin. Her husband is pre-occupied, intoxicated, or soft, because she drives one hour each way to get fucked, hard. And for the both of us, it'd been a while--last September was our previous tryst, in a motel room off the freeway, her fantasy.

Last night it took place here, in my home. Starting in the living room, leading quickly to and finishing in the guest room. Slow, rotating kisses, tongues rolling, searching. I stood up off the sofa and pulled her hand in my mine, beckoning.

"Come upstairs with me."

We hold hands as I lead her up. We stand in the room and I close the door, shutting us in the darkness. She's shy about the light. She's had a kid, a son, 3, and she doesn't want me to see her stomach. I kiss her and run my hand along the patterns on her skin. And then drop my hand and cup her cunt, hot and humid through her pants.

I back her slowly to the bed, still kissing. The backs of her knees touch the mattress, so she lays back. She pulls her pants off and slips off her sweater, leaving a camisole on underneath.

Her cunt tastes thick and creamy. Like sweet bread at first, then, when her gates open and the flood comes, like warm, thin sap from a moss tree. I suck her lips hungrily. I slip my tongue inside her, deep, and taste her inside. Then I withdraw my tongue and run it in circles around her asshole. Pushing the tip right into its centre and feeling her buck against my face, pushing her wet, sloppy cunt into my face, my nose, and I like it like that, I like it when a woman leaves her scent on me, grinding until I put my tongue back on her pussy, flicking it across her clit till I finally take it between my lips and suck it, suck it like a tiny, juicy morsel, pulling it ever-so-softly between my teeth till she comes, shaking like a leaf, moaning hard. And then I slow down, to give her breathing room, so I can lick, and suck, once more, vampiric and cunt-starved, and then she comes a second time, harder than the first, pushing me away so we can break.

"I want to suck you off," she says, throatily. She makes no sound when she does this, no sucking noises, only the wet vacuum of her expert mouth. And then I'm aware of her throat, its opening, and the way it contracts around the head of my cock and I look down at her form, in the darkness, at the side of her head, swallowing me, and I groan with helpless amazement and pleasure.

"Fuck me," she says when she finally takes her mouth off me. I say yes. She lays down and I climb atop. She takes me in her head and two seconds of searching later I'm sinking into wet limbo. I slide in until I can't and we both undulate into one another and groan. Someone made my cock and her pussy from the same mold. I wear her like a tight, wet, velvet glove.

"This isn't your husband's pussy anymore," I whisper with my teeth around her earlobe.

"No. It's not."

"You need much more cock than you can get right now, don't you?"

"Yes, it's so hard. I need it all the time."

"It's okay," I say, "it's okay."

"You can fix that, can't you? Like this."

We end up moving to our sides. Slipping out in the process. She reaches behind and takes me, and presses me against her. And I'm feeling a different opening, one hotter and tighter, and then I'm inside, and she's pushing against me, swallowing me slowly down there.

"Is this your ass?"

"Yes," through clenched teeth, she hissed.

"Fuck."

I push her back forward, and in doing so, push myself deeper in her. We both make it to our knees without disengaging.

"Now fuck me," she said. "Fuck my ass hard, till you cum in it."

I pull out and push in. Pull out and push in. It's easy for her. It's easy with her. She buries her head in the pillow and snarls.

"I want to get fucked in both places. I want to get DP'd. I want you to watch," she gasps.

Somewhere out on the street, a car rolls by blasting Bhangra out its windows. I close my eyes when I feel the tell-tail signs of her fingers rubbing her clit furiously, their tips brushing against my balls when I commit re-entry. Later, on her back, her legs spread far, far apart, I kiss her gasping mouth and hilt my cock inside her ass for the thousandth thrust. I don't end up cumming inside her ass like she asked me to but erupt in her mouth instead like a hot spring. I thrash and groan and cry out as my legs go aggro and I dig my fingers in her shoulders. Aware of her tongue lapping and her lips sucking the river that ran out her lips and down my shaft and on my base. Half-shut eyes registering the cat smile on her face as she leans back on her haunches and drinks in my dying form.

I feed her strawberry lemonade and we share a joint. She tells me I'm her perfect fuck. I smile and ask if she would've been attracted to me before she got married, when she was single, and playful. She thinks about it but says yes. I wonder if she means it but who gives a fuck, honestly? I believe her when she says she wants me now.

She goes to the bathroom and comes out 10 minutes later, fixed, looking like she just walked in my front door. Women amaze me with this kind of ability. I smell her on me as I walk her to her car. I smell her on me when I come back inside. And I smell her on me for the last time, at 2 in the morning, when I dip my hand, and finally my hair and face--the last of her on me--in the hot soaping bath.