Though Elle broke up with her, Slow’s going to discover that there’s always someone to catch you if you fall.
I don’t know how long I stared out the window. Or was it at the window? The bedside lamp illuminated my reflection as I stared into nothing, my guitar in my lap. Outside, the rain pounded pretty heavy, and wind caused branches from the elm tree on the side of the garage to tap the roof. Couldn’t tell it was New Year’s Eve. Looked more like Halloween to me.
I sighed. Last summer, I’d have thought I’d be in the city tonight, celebrating a romantic little getaway with Elle. Such was not the case, however. Not after one of her girlfriends busted us at the county fair. By the time we got back to town, half the kids knew about Elle and me kissing in the funhouse. Within two days, the news had hit every ear, including my mother’s.
Funny how Elle always flirted with getting caught, but when she did, she freaked. The gossip was too much for her; she blazed out of town in her red convertible, heading for college and away from the heat.
Didn’t help me none. I was stuck.
I can’t blame her, though. If I had the option, I’d have been right behind her. As it was, it took a couple of tense weeks before things settled and tongues found something else to wag about. I still get strange looks from folks as I go about town, but I have to consider I always did get those. Maybe the pressure on Elle was more than on me — everybody knew I was an odd bird to begin with. She was Ivy League material. I bet people were crushed at her downfall to the likes of some lowlife like me.
No, the worst part was Mama. The day she heard the news, I came home from Franklin’s garage to find my place not set at supper. Daddy was morose at her behavior, but everybody in our family knows better than to cross Mama. It would only make things worse on him and Russell if he tried to argue her out of it. She’s a stubborn and willful woman, always has been.
Rather than stay where I wasn’t wanted, I spent more time at the garage with Franklin, who didn’t seem to mind none that I was a dyke. When he found me sleeping on the couch in the office one morning, he finally broke down and offered me the room over the garage. I’ve been here ever since.
A gust of wind rattled my window and interrupted my thoughts. I shook off my melancholy, strumming the guitar.
About the only good thing to happen from the county fair was a check I received. Five hundred dollars in my name, sent to Mama’s house. Russell brought it over. Guess I won first place in the talent contest. Least I know I’m good at something.
That’s not right. I’m good with engines, too. Tinkering’s in my blood. Franklin says I’ve got a gift, and he doesn’t give a hill of beans about what folks say about me. Besides, he said his cousin is kind of like me, too, so I guess he’s used to the idea. So now I tinker with music, too. I bought a pickup with the prize money. She’s not much, but she’s good enough. When I have spare time and money, I work on her. She’ll be a real beauty when I’m finished.
Then I’ll get in and drive away from here. Forever.
The lights flickered a couple of times before steadying. Not wanting to be caught unawares, I set the guitar on my bed and lit some candles. On a lark, I turned off the lights anyway before I sat down and resumed playing. I like it when it’s peaceful like this. Nothing but me, the music and Mother Nature beating on the side of the garage in a temper tantrum.
I stopped in mid strum, cocking an ear. That didn’t sound like Mother Nature.
There it was again, a banging sound coming from the front of the garage. I got up and set the guitar in one corner as I padded to the window.
The storm stayed at a steady tempo. I looked outside, narrowing my eyes to see past the wavering candle reflections on the glass. There was a sedan parked in front of the garage, the driver’s door standing open and headlights glowing. I saw rain pelting in the lights but couldn’t tell whose car it was.
More banging. It wasn’t the storm; it was someone at the office door. Wondering what was going on, I slipped on my boots before clunking downstairs, mindful to not trip on the untied laces. Just what I’d need is to fall down the stairs and crack my fool head open.
When I got to the office, I heard a woman swearing. She pounded some more on the door, rattling the windows.
“Damn it, Slow Phillips! I know you’re in there. Open the fucking door.”
Sure as hell didn’t sound like a damsel in distress. I recognized the voice, but I couldn’t place it. When I flipped on the light, she stopped banging and peered through the glass at me.
Crossing the office, I opened the door. She about burst into the room, exploding rainwater and curses as she entered. “Damn it to hell! It’s freezing out there. Christ!”
“We’re closed,” I said in my usual debonair way. Of course, I belatedly realized I wasn’t wearing anything but my long johns and boots. Nothing like striking a professional image, huh?
It threw me for a loop a minute, thinking she was responding to my thought. By the time I realized she only answered my words, she had turned to glare at me.
She looked like a drowned rat. Her black hair hung in tatters around her oval face, makeup so diligently applied earlier in the day running in streams down her cheeks. She wore a nice, if wet, dress, and her jacket was about worthless for the weather. Now that we stared at each other, I placed her.
She gave a disdainful sniff and messed with her hair, trying to put it to rights. Losing proposition, all in all. “I want you to take a look at my car, Slow. Something’s not right with it.”
“Well, like I said, Missus Morton, we’re closed and—”
“I don’t care!” Her voice cracked.
That’s when I noticed she was shaking and she’d been crying. At least I didn’t think her eyes would be that red from rainwater. I decided to go with the flow. “All right. You just sit down there, Missus Morton. Let me get some coveralls on and I’ll go out and have a look at it.”
Mollified, she looked around the office. “Is there a bathroom in here? I must look a fright.”
Agreeing with her would probably get my head caved in, so I pointed to the bathroom door. She sniffled, stuck her nose in the air and elegantly glided toward the privy. The door closed, and I shook my head. Best not to rile her up any further. Something had her upset, and I doubted it was just her wheels. I grabbed my coveralls hanging next to the stairs and stepped into them.
By the time I got to the car, I was drenched to the skin. Missus Morton was right; it was freezing out. Her headlights still being on, I noted the battery was working fine. She’d left her keys in the ignition, and I gave it a whirl. For some reason, the blasted thing wouldn’t turn over. Swearing the air blue around me, I went back inside, rainwater dripping down my neck. I unlocked one of the bay doors and shoved it open. Took a little work, but I finally got the car pushed inside too. I closed and locked it, shivering.
“Well, what do you reckon it is?” She stood in the office doorway, clothes still dripping. Her face was clean now, and I could see bits of paper towel lint in her dark hair. She was a pretty thing when she cleaned up but then she’d always had been. Don’t let the “missus” part fool you. She was only five years ahead of me in school. Did the whole Honor Roll/cheerleader/college-bound thing. Then she got herself knocked up her senior year. Ended up marrying Dale Morton from Morton’s Grocery Emporium. At least my hometown scandal didn’t leave me with a jock husband and an unwanted kid in a pissant town.
“I couldn’t begin to say, Missus Morton. Not until I’ve had a chance to go over it in daylight.” I scratched my neck. “Do you need to call Mister Morton? Get you a ride home?”
“No!” Her pretty face twisted into a right fierce expression. “I’ll be damned if I call that two-timing son of a bitch.”
Well, that answered my question. She must have busted Dale with his current flavor of the month. Interesting how some secrets were known everywhere except where they’d do the most harm. Or good. “Maybe your folks then?” I offered. “I’d take you myself, but my truck isn’t running at the moment.”
Her shoulders hunched. “I can’t go there.”
Okay. Now I was getting a mite nervous. I had enough problems these days. I certainly didn’t need to get dragged into someone else’s. “There’s got to be somewhere you can go, Missus Morton. What about a friend?”
She turned away from me, going back into the office. I followed, watching her slump on the padded bench along the back wall. “Missus Morton?”
“Don’t call me that.” Her voice was tired beyond imagining. “That…ass is fucking my best friend. Right now!”
And I thought I had it bad. How many people knew about this? Probably most of Dale’s friends, their wives and girlfriends, her best friend and that particular crowd were aware. Hell, half the town must have had a clue before she did.
“What should I call you?”
“It hasn’t been that long, has it, Slow?” Her eyes found mine. I saw an intensity there, something normally not present when she’d come by for a tank of gas or an oil change. She wanted someone to remember who she’d been before her life fell apart.
“Misty Sue.” Her smile wasn’t the usual diamond-hard fake one, and it reminded me of when I saw her as a teenager. Obviously, I’d guessed right.
“Do you think I could stay here?” She pressed her palms against the bench as she assessed its firmness. “I’d only need a blanket or something. Just until morning.”
Having slept on that bench more times than I could count, I knew how uncomfortable it could be. “Oh, now, Missus—Misty Sue, you don’t want to do that. You’ll wake up aching fit to bust. Are you sure there’s nobody I can call, someplace else you can sleep tonight? Or what’s left of tonight anyway?”
That started the waterworks. She sniffled and blubbered, putting her face in her hands. “No,” she mumbled. “There nowhere else I can go, Slow. I don’t know what to do.”
I shivered from the wet clothes I wore, feeling helpless as she busted into tears. What the hell does a body do with a crying woman? After hesitating a moment, I went into the bathroom and grabbed a handful of toilet paper. Movement caught my attention, and I stared at myself in the mirror. My hair was plastered to my head; I looked like a drowned rat, too. At least I was no worse than Misty Sue. I didn’t have a load of makeup on my face threatening to make me look like a raccoon.
She looked up with a grateful expression as I gave the paper to her. She blew her nose, and I trembled from the cold again. You know, even with the smeared paint, she was still mighty good looking. Why the hell Dale Morton would be screwing around on her was a puzzlement. I remembered seeing the pair of them when I was in junior high — they always seemed so happy and carefree. Guess squirting out a kid or two kind of takes the romance out of things.
Her tears faded again, and she gave the impression of bucking up under her load of troubles. My troubles had just begun, I was sure. I couldn’t let her sleep on the couch in the office. Franklin would be in, come morning, and then I’d have to explain to him what happened. Besides, you just don’t treat a woman that way. “Tell you what, Misty Sue,” I said. “You can sleep upstairs in my room. I’ll stay down here on the bench.”
She demurred, though I think it was just for show. Actually, she seemed kind of pleased at the gesture. After spending time with the fellahs down at the bar, I understood why. I’ve never figured out what women see in men. Once they get their way, they treat their women like dirt, complaining and whining about not being understood. Bunch of barbarians, if you ask me. A woman wants to be treated right, plain and simple, an easy enough task if you put a little thought into it.
“Are you sure, Slow?” she asked as I directed her up the stairs. “I don’t want to put you out or anything.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll just grab me some dry clothes and a blanket.”
I had to admit the view from behind was pleasant. Misty Sue’s dress was just short enough to give a peek without showing anything. She stopped and stood in front of my door, waiting for me to catch up, then turned. The landing wasn’t all that big to begin with, and two adults crammed up there made for a tight fit. Brushing up against her felt nice. I reddened at the accompanying sensations. Regardless of the circumstances, it had been four months since I last felt a woman’s body against mine.
Guess I’m no better than the barbarians down at the bar.
No longer cold, I quickly turned the knob and shoved open the door. Misty Sue didn’t move for half a second, the pause making me warm even more. I couldn’t look at her, because I knew she’d see the wanting in my eyes. Instead, I dared to touch her, putting my hand in the small of her back to guide her into my room. Even through the wet jacket, I felt the heat of her skin.
To distract myself, I scanned my room. Glad I’m not a slob like my brother, Russell. At least there weren’t any dirty socks and boxers tossed all over the place. The old brass bed was neatly made, though the springs made it sag. Most of my clothes were hung on the rack in the corner, the rest were folded in the dresser to the right of the door. Franklin had added an old steel cabinet and hung another one over it. I had a hotplate and electric coffee pot there. I had all the comforts of home—if I ignored the lack of laundry facilities and having to use the shower in the garage.
I was still dressed in my soaked coveralls and boots. Damned if I was going to strip down to my long johns in front of Misty Sue, despite the fact she’d seen me in them when she’d arrived. The bedsprings squeaked as I went to the rack. Over my shoulder I saw her bouncing lightly on the edge of the bed, testing its firmness. Banning the carnal vision that nearly blocked my vision, I returned to the task of grabbing dry clothes.
“All the candles makes it look romantic,” she said. “Were you going to have company?”
Blushing, I shook my head. “No. Just thought I’d be ready if the power went out, that’s all.” She made some kind of understanding noise in her throat and stood. That put her in the middle of the small room, and I had to scootch past her to get to my dresser. Sparing a glance at her, I noticed she was hugging herself and shivering.
Damn. She looked so forlorn right then. Tearing myself away from the sight of her, I dug in a drawer and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a large t-shirt. “Here. You’re wet and cold. Change into these.” I pointed to the shelf above the clothing rack. “There are towels up there you can use to dry off.”
“Thank you for being so nice to me, Slow.” Misty Sue sniffled some, and I braced myself for another round of waterworks.
“Got no reason not to be,” I mumbled.
She got down one of the towels, and I breathed a sigh of relief that she didn’t begin to cry again. I grabbed one of the pillows and took the folded quilt my grandma had given me a couple of years ago from the foot of the bed. “I’ll just be going downstairs now. You have a good night.” I made the mistake of turning around.
Misty Sue had stripped down to her underwear while I was otherwise occupied — a frilly red bra and a thong, both of which did little to cover her attributes. She gave me a fine view of her bare ass as she bent to dry her legs. Good God Almighty, she took my breath away. It was obvious she hadn’t let pregnancy get in the way of her looks. She’d spent a good deal of time firming up her muscles if what I saw in candlelight was any indication. I wouldn’t be surprised if she could still do the splits.
My mind short-circuited at that point, and it took a bit for me to come back to reality. When I did, she was patting her neck and chest dry, watching me gape at her.
“Uh…I better go.” I willed my feet to head for the door, but the traitorous things remained rooted to the spot.
“Is it true what they say, Slow?” she asked. “About you and Elle Shipley?”
On guard, I forced down my rampant libido. “Depends on what they say.”
Misty Sue smiled. She glided forward, seeming to walk on air. When we were only inches apart, she stopped. “They say you and Elle Shipley were carrying on at the county fair. You know. Kissing and all that.”
I flushed from a combination of her nearness and embarrassment at my previous disgrace. She was wearing perfume of some sort; I smelled it on her despite the rainwater. Perversely, I also noticed she was still cold, her nipples pressing against the silk of her bra and goose bumps pimpling her skin. I swallowed, remembering her words, making myself focus on them instead. “It’s true.”
Her smile grew crooked. “That you were kissing? Or all that?”
She was taller than me. I looked up at her, finding the humor in her eyes and answering it. “All that, too.”
“What’s it like?”
I blinked. How the hell can you explain bedding a woman to a straight chick? Or vice versa, really. I had no point of reference; we had no common ground. I doubt Misty Sue had ever entertained the notion of sex with a woman, and I know I’d never felt that way towards a man. Of course, it occurred to me that she wasn’t looking for a real answer. She just wanted the experience. Everybody knew her husband stepped out on her. Seemed pretty obvious she now knew it, too. What better way to get back at him than sleeping with a dyke? Whether I wanted it or not, I found myself smack dab in the middle of another scandal.
“What’s it like, Slow?” she asked again, her voice a whisper. Her words slid against my common sense, turning my legs to jelly.
Well, we had both survived one round of tittle-tattle. What the hell? Why not another? I dropped the clothing and bedding in my hands. “Like this.” I pulled her head down and kissed her.
It was nothing like kissing Elle. For one thing, Misty Sue had quite a bit more experience. If I had entertained any doubts about what she wanted, they were destroyed in the meeting of lips and teeth and tongues. She hummed in delight, closing the slight distance between us. The snaps on my coveralls popped open, and she reached inside, wrapping her arms around me.
Misty Sue pushed me backwards until I felt the edge of the bed at the back of my knees. She was aggressive, as much as Elle had been in the beginning. I figured it was from their experiences with men. Seems to me the fellahs were far more interested in the destination than the journey, if you follow me. There’s a lot to be said for enjoying the passing scenery, though.
Disengaging my lips from hers, I grabbed her arms and held her away from me. “Whoa, girl. You’re going way too fast.”
She licked her lips and tried on a pout. It didn’t work. I had a lot of experience with Elle’s manipulations, and it looked like Misty Sue didn’t have near the ability. Thank God for that.
I stepped forward, away from the bed, still holding her upper arms, smiling. “We’ve got all night long. Let’s make it last, okay?”
Apparently the idea appealed to her. She conceded with a dip of her head, the pout turning into a small smile.
Once I decided it was safe, I released my hold on her. She stayed put, though she shivered. Much as I wanted to touch her, other things needed doing first. I took her hand and raised it to my lips for a kiss before releasing it. Then I slipped past her.
The door still stood open, the reason for the chilliness in the air. Only my room had heat. Franklin had space heaters in the garage and office; it didn’t make any sense to heat that space when the bay doors were open more often than not. I closed and locked the door. Moving to the radiator under the window, I adjusted the water flow to warm things further. Then I kicked off my boots and removed the coveralls, leaving me still wearing my long johns.
I turned back to Misty Sue, getting an unrestricted view of her backside. She hadn’t moved from when I left her, except to look over her shoulder to see what I was doing. I couldn’t help but stop and stare a minute, enjoying the play of candlelight on her skin. Her muscle tone was wonderful. She had to work out with some regularity; no one looked that good without the extra attention. Unable to help myself, I slid my hand along her ass as I passed her, my fingers unerringly teasing her inner thigh. She sighed in appreciation but didn’t stop me as I kept walking. At the bed, I removed the coverlet. It was damp from where she’d sat on it with her wet clothes. The sheets beneath were still dry, so I left them, pulling the top one back.
I already felt the increased heat from the radiator — or was it the blood pumping in my veins at the thought of tasting Misty Sue? I licked my lips and removed my thermal top, leaving the bottoms on for the moment. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked, my back to her. “Not that you aren’t a good looking woman. I’d be blind and stupid to not want you. But you’re married and all—” Her fingernails on my back interrupted me, slowly drawing across my shoulders and down to the small of my back, and I arched with a sigh.
“I want to do this,” she whispered in my ear.
I turned and smiled. “Good.” My hands rested on her hips, my fingers restlessly tracing designs on her soft skin as I stole another kiss. She gave it freely, running her hands through my wet hair, taking that extra step until our bodies met. My skin cried out in relief at the contact, remembering once again what it felt like to have someone tight against it.
Lord, I could kiss her all day. Her full lips alternated between teasing pecks and downright wanton behavior as she invaded my mouth with her tongue. I had a moment to marvel at the subtle similarities and differences between her and Elle, but it was soon gone in the heat of her teeth on my neck and throat. Sliding my hands up her back, I unhooked the catch of her lacy bra. She stopped nibbling my throat while I scratched her back, soothing the marks where the straps had bitten into her flesh. Her back arched, and she squirmed against me, leaning on my shoulders to support her as she gave a blissful sigh.
“God, Slow, that’s marvelous! Dale never thinks to do that.”
“Dale’s never worn a bra, I reckon.” I leaned in to nip at her earlobe. “And if he did, I don’t know that I’d want to hear about it.”
Misty Sue laughed, a rich throaty sound, and she pulled her upper body back to look me in the eye. “I wouldn’t want to hear about it, either.”
Her bra now loose in the front, my gaze slid down to her chest. “I know what I do want to hear,” I said as I returned to the seduction. My lips found the hollow of her throat, and her breath hitched.
“I want to hear you moan, I want to hear you scream out my name when I make you come.” I dipped lower, slowly edging toward her cleavage, pleased when she obliged me with a whimper. I’ve got to give Elle credit; she taught me a lot of things, the least of them being the benefits of talking dirty. I drew my hands up to her shoulders, easing the bra straps down her arms as I pulled back a bit. As her breasts were revealed, I licked my lips in anticipation. Her nipples eagerly awaited my attention, swollen with desire. She released me, letting me get her arms out of the garment. As soon as it was free, I tossed it to the floor at our feet.
Sitting on the bed, I tugged her to stand before me, straddling my legs. Her height worked against me, but I took some advantage in it by lavishing her belly with attention, wrapping my arms around her waist to caress her lower back, rear, and thighs. Her hands found my head and shoulders, restlessly roaming as she rumbled in pleasure.
I knew she wanted more because her hips kept pressing forward, but I didn’t want to go there just yet. I planned on drawing this out for a while. Urging her forward, I guided her hips and thighs until she straddled me, her weight on the bed, knees on either side of me. I caressed her sides, callused fingers against warm velvet. Soon, I cupped her breasts, their tantalizing heaviness hanging at eye level. The temptation was too great. I buried my face in their softness, smelling rainwater and the perfume she had dabbed there earlier in the evening.
“Mmmm, you smell delicious.” I allowed my hands to begin a firm massage. My thumbs and forefingers found hard nipples, and she gasped as I slowly rolled and squeezed the sensitive nubs. Her weight increased on my legs as she responded, pressing down in an effort to ease another ache, one we shared. She was too far away from me for her actions to do any good so she scooted forward until her belly touched my ribcage, my tits nestled beneath hers. When she pushed against me again, I felt the damp heat of her thong against my belly. I tweaked her nipples in sharp reward, feeling a rush of excitement between my legs.
I wrapped my arms about her — supporting her, cradling her —as I took one of her nipples in my mouth. Misty Sue thrust against me, an urgent groan coming from her throat. It changed into a sudden cry of surprise as I bit down, rolling her nipple between my teeth. Her hands found my head and frantically held me in place, so I gave her what she wanted, reverently tonguing and biting the flesh within reach of my questing mouth.
Eventually she wanted more. Past the first blush of new experience, Misty Sue began to desire other things, including doing something for my enjoyment. Not that I wasn’t already enjoying the hell out of having a warm, sexy woman writhing in my arms. She released my head and caressed my face, neck and shoulders as she moved. Before I knew it, she slipped past my arms and found my breasts.
Her touch was uncertain at first. She didn’t know whether to be rough or gentle. I released the nipple in my mouth, drawing one hand upward to roughly stroke it. “Do what you’d want me to do to you,” I suggested.
That seemed to do the trick. Misty Sue squeezed my tits, attacking my nipples with a measured caress. It felt wonderful, and I moaned as the sharp tingle of arousal arrowed to my already excited clit. I returned the favor, matching her touch for touch. To make it easier for her, I lay back on the bed where I had a wonderful view. She alternated from watching my reactions to her manipulations and reacting to my stroking as she ground down against my belly.
When I couldn’t stand it anymore, my hips automatically rising to meet hers, I released her breasts, drawing my fingers down her belly and to her thighs. “Lift up a bit,” I whispered.
Misty Sue didn’t want to stop what she was doing. In fact, she leaned down and gave me an experimental nibble, the heat of her mouth on my nipple almost causing me to lose track of what I wanted to do. Her hair, still damp, splayed across my chest, tickling me. I had a hard time fighting my body’s responses, but I finally remembered I needed to get my long john bottoms off. Not to mention her thong.
My hands were clutching her thighs. I forced them to release her and slide up to her crotch. A well-placed thumb gently scraping across her covered clit interrupted her activities. She surged downward with a startled cry, her delicious lips leaving my breasts. It was a horrible loss, and I wanted to force her head back in position. Instead, I repeated my words. “Lift up a bit. Just for a few seconds.”
She did as I asked, until she was on all fours over me. Her sky blue eyes were hooded, the pupils dilated in pleasure, and she licked her lips. Swallowing the desire to kiss her, I raised my hips and slid the waistband of my bottoms past them. It didn’t take much to kick them the rest the way off. I wriggled up on the mattress, while I was at it. It would be just my luck to be involved in a little slap and tickle only to fall off the bed.
Misty Sue followed me, still straddling my body as she walked on her hands and knees. She was giving my breasts a heated look, but I figured it was time to move on to other areas. Before she could do more than think about it, I forcibly pulled her onto me, wrapping her legs with mine. I lifted my thigh until it settled firmly against her sex. She took the lead from that point, rubbing hard on my leg. God, she was wet!
I had questions that needed answering, though. Did she taste the same as Elle? Would she feel the same? Misty Sue was already proving to be different; she followed my lead as we moved against one another. When Elle had made her intentions plain at the river last summer, she had run the show; she remained the leader of our extracurricular activities through the summer. This was the first time I truly felt like I controlled what was happening.
I kind of like it.
So I flipped us over. I couldn’t tell what squealed, her or the bedsprings. It didn’t make any difference. I had a mind to go where no woman had gone before, at least as far as Misty Sue was concerned, and nothing was going to stop me. I gave her a thorough kissing, exploring her eager mouth. She seemed to enjoy a rough touch, so I pressed hard against her lips, swallowing her groan. When I broke off, she tried to pull me back down.
Instead, I pushed away, grabbing her hands with mine. I pinned her wrists above her, and she gasped in surprise. Didn’t seem to scare her any. In fact, she seemed to become more hot and bothered if her voice and writhing body was any indication. Since she didn’t seem too put out with me — far from it — I held her wrists with one hand and used the other to explore her. Misty Sue struggled, but it was more for show than with the intention of being released as I caressed and stroked her skin with my mouth and hand.
I teased her for some time. It was quite a rush; I could see why Elle enjoyed doing it. At some point, I loosened my grip on her wrists, and she grabbed the brass railing rather than free herself. As incentive, I purposely ground my thigh against her clitoris, loving the surprised groan it brought forth.
I guess I wasn’t going fast enough for her. The noises from her throat became more frustration than enjoyment. She finally lifted her leg, her thigh coming into firm contact with my crotch. I damned near came on the spot, hissing at the throb of pleasure. It took a lot of control to not continue sliding against her, but I still hadn’t attained my goal. Groaning in disappointment, I forced myself away. Her eyes flew open as our bodies lost contact, their depths reflecting a combination of lust and anxiety. I smiled at her, letting her know I was far from finished.
Scooting down the bed, I knelt between her legs. My hands caressed her thighs, sliding up until I reached the waistband of her thong. With gentle pressure from me, she took her cue and lifted up so I could slip the material past her hips. Then she bent her knees so I could draw the lingerie all the way off. I made sure to caress her skin as I did.
She stretched out before me, her hands still holding the bed rails, candlelight glistening on her body. We were both sweating now, and I don’t think it was entirely the radiator’s fault. “You take my breath away,” I whispered. Then I bent to worship her, nibbling warm thighs, and inching closer toward my goal.
Her aroma was heady, rich with desire, yet delicate. Not what I expected, but then I only had one person to compare anything to. Two if I counted myself. I took a deep breath as I settled into place between her legs, humming in anticipation. My hands weren’t idle, one stroking her breasts and belly as I leaned on the other elbow. Misty Sue’s skin was hot against my cheek, her whimpers firing up my want of her.
Despite my desire, I still wanted to take my time and do some serious exploring. I drew my hand down her belly, my fingers playing in curly hair as they passed. I gentled my touch to the barest of whispers as I brushed her swollen clit, but she jumped anyway. I followed the line of her lower lips, moisture covering my finger in its passage. It was easy to slip past, to push those folds aside and find what I sought. Using two fingers, I slid along the satin of her hidden flesh, marveling at the sensation. Unable to hold myself back any further, I replaced my fingers with my tongue.
She both tasted and felt different. Lighter, elusive, the skin beneath my mouth wasn’t as heavy as Elle’s. The comparison lasted only a second before I lost myself to her responses. Her voice was rough and breathless as she moaned, her hips tilting forward in demand. My tongue swirled around her clitoris, causing a surge and a strangled, “Please!” I gently suckled the bundle of nerves, stroking deep inside her with my fingers.
I admit I was teasing her. It wasn’t on purpose, though. I just didn’t want to stop tasting her yet. She got fed up with that pretty soon, though, as her hands dug into my head to hold me where she wanted me. Not one to disappoint a lady, I relinquished my control and followed orders. My fingers thrust into her, filling her as I continued to tongue her clit. Her movements became more frantic, until she pressed hard against my mouth, freezing in place for maybe half a second before calling out my name. I continued enjoying her until she collapsed in sheer exhaustion, her fingers lethargically stroking my hair.
Misty Sue gave a gentle moan as I pulled out of her. Then I climbed up to sit at the head of the bed. She was still languid, but she forced herself up until she draped herself across my body. It felt nice. I held her close, caressing her.
“I think I’ve been missing something,” she finally said.
“I reckon so.”
We lay in silence for a while, only hearing the storm raging outside.
“What are you doing tomorrow night?” she asked.