Chapter 10

One breast brushed lightly against the rough texture of his coat and immediately ignited fires. Her nipples hardened, her breasts swelled. And the hand under her buttocks seemed to have a special heat of its own, rekindling that flush of warmth in her pussy.

She tried to wriggle out of his arms and only managed to find her own arms linking behind his head, pulling his mouth tighter on hers. It was, of course, only a momentary madness-a wave of emotion that carried her, unresisting, along a stream she had renounced.

If he would just put her down, allow her to breathe with ease, with confidence, she could tell him this was all over. Finished. There would be no more lovemaking, no matter how many dozens of ways there might be.

He put her down, very gently, on the berth and stood over her, looking down at her nudity hungrily, with hot, burning eyes.

"I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure I could remember just how lovely you are. How sweet you taste. How exciting you are to be with. I had to come, even when I shouldn't, just to hold you again, to know you once again."

Now was the time to tell him of her resolution-that he was never to know her again in the sense he meant. Never again would he bend over her and kiss her. Never again would he feel her arms around his neck, tugging at him, begging him to come closer-closer.

Bruce bent over and kissed her. Her arms slid up and circled his neck, tugging at him, begging him to come closer-closer.

And all the time she knew it was madness, knew this was not the way. She must protest, protect her body against further violation. Protect herself, her innermost self, against the degradation of her body.

He sat on the berth beside her, reaching out to touch one breast, starting once more that enchanting excitement stirring in her stomach, the tenseness in her chest, the sudden, flooding warmth of her pussy.

It grew almost unbearable as he slid one hand down over her mound, cupping her little pussy, fingering at the lips of her vulva. He bent to kiss her, fiercely, eagerly. "I had to come back. I couldn't wait until tonight... I had to see you... to know..."

Jennifer laid a finger on his lips, denying everything she had told herself, all the fine resolutions she had made. "You're here. And I belong to you. If you want me." Jennifer tried for a smile, but it faltered into a gasp as he kissed her breast. "Anyway. And you said there were dozens."

Without her willing it, her fingers were undoing his shirt buttons. He flung that off. Then, with fingers that shook with her daring, she started undoing his trousers. First, that cumbersome buckle of his belt... In one swift movement Bruce brushed her hands away and was stepping out of his pants, towering above her, his penis a great rod of flesh above her, huge and ready, eager, with its juices already flowing.

She was lost. She had known she was lost from the moment he entered her cabin. Protests had only been in her mind. She had never voiced them. And now her body was betraying her into accepting him all over again, every bit of him. She even found herself whispering softly, hoarsely, with surprising intensity of longing... "The 'Rocking Chair'-is that one of your dozens of ways? Could we..."

"We could. We can..." He grinned down at her. "And fancy your knowing! You must read the damndest books, because I know you haven't -well-you are too naive to have learned any other way."

He picked her up, yielding and nearly limp, her eyes enormous, her breathing shallow and soft as one hand cupped her breast and another her leg as he carried her to the straight chair that had sat so primly before the writing desk. As if on a swingin' singles cruise anyone bothered to write.

He sat in the chair, with Jennifer in his lap, feeling the thrust and throb of his penis against her leg, the soft molding and stroking of her breast as his hand closed over it.

"Now you swing around and face me. Sit on my legs as you would the saddle of a horse."

Obediently, as if she had expected just such orders and would always obey them, Jennifer rolled over, swung one leg across his, and sat up facing him, her breasts on a level with his mouth. And he promptly kissed both of them.

Her little pussy was opened by the spread of her legs and by the natural and basic impulse of sex, exposing her pinkish inner lips to his penis.

As he kissed her breasts, new juices started to flow. She could look down her front and see her pussy, see Bruce's penis, its head pulsing and shiny with its own juices, pushing against the lips of her vulva. And she could see the muscles ripple in Bruce's stomach and feel the tenseness of his muscular legs.

And most of all, most exciting of all, she could feel the soft, insistent beat of his penis against her pussy, actually teasing her clitoris.

Bruce's hands swept in a gentle caress across her bosom. One lingered to play with and tease her nipples. The other strayed down her stomach, along the crease between leg and pelvis, and onto her pussy, moving his penis back and forth with a gentle, rocking motion across the tip of her clitoris until she felt she had to scream-and drove her pelvis at his prick. It was an almost futile movement, for there was no force, no leverage, and his penis pushed in and then slid out.

Bruce cupped his hands behind her buttocks, bracing, so that she had something to push against. Once more she moved on his penis and felt and saw the head go in, buried within the pink cavern of her vulva, the shaft still outside, awaiting that drive that would send it shooting up her, to penetrate far up in her belly, to excite areas she hadn't known existed.

Bruce gently increased the pressure of his interlocked hands, sliding her little tokus forward, easing his penis farther and farther up her cunt.

Being able to sit on his thighs, to feel and to see, added to the stimulation, the increasing tempo of the buildup within her. And now that she had the idea, she could reach around him, locking her hands at the small of his back, and inch herself forward, driving his shaft up her tunnel, feeling the bulb penetrate the passage, starting new sensations.

And that had freed his hands, so that he was caressing her breasts, stroking her sides, running his hands over the inner surface of her thighs until she quivered with anticipation, with pent-up excitement.

She could look down and see just how much of his shaft was left, just how far she could move to bury it all in her pussy. She could see the shaft, the flesh and the pulsing blue veins-and the flow of juices that ran from her own pussy. But whether they were all hers she couldn't tell. Nor did it matter. They were together, welded as one in this adventure in love-making. And saw his penis slide another fraction of an inch, felt the head drive far past her button, 'way up her tunnel, a pulsing, living thing sliding slowly up her.

Her hands played softly along the muscular back, so that she felt the force and drive of him as he started slowly pumping, a small but uniform rocking motion of hips and pelvis. It drove his shaft still farther up her. And she gave the final push that buried his penis to the balls, to the patch of dark hair that was on his pubic mound.

Bruce opened his legs slightly and her buttocks slipped down and her pelvis moved forward, driving still another fraction of an inch that bulb up in her tunnel.

And Bruce began the slow, rhythmic rocking that moved his mound teasingly against her clitoris and moved his shaft in a series of short but exciting movements far up her.

She rocked with him, in a tempo that gradually increased, while he buried his face in her bosom, sucking at her breasts, teasing her nipples, torturing her with excitement that was delightful torture and becoming more and more tense. Jennifer threw back her head and Bruce clamped his lips on her throat, below her ear, moving his tongue, sucking, moaning.

Jennifer found herself clawing at his back, trying to pull him closer for deeper penetration, for more excitement-which couldn't get more exciting. Arid they rocked together in a kind of frenzy that exploded into white-hot but silent fireworks behind her eyes, that sent violent shivers down through her whole body, that made her clutch and claw at Bruce's shoulders, at his waist, down at his buttocks, trying to push that exploding, juice-spouting bulb farther up. Even though it felt as if his come was pounding right at her chest.

It couldn't be, of course. Her tunnel didn't go that far up. But she was tight with tension-and suddenly release, tasting his semen with her whole body, watching her pussy drip juices.

And then she folded against him, weak, drained but satisfied, leaning her head against his shoulder, sighing.

Bruce was sliding his hands over her back, moving them around until he touched her breasts with one hand and lifted her chin with the other, kissing her with tenderness that was surprisingly gentle after so much violent emotion.

They sat, wrapped in each other's arms, warmed by their meeting flesh, waiting for the shuddering and shivers to subside. And while his penis deflated, pulling slowly out of her pussy, each movement brought a new shiver and gasp from Jennifer.

When it finally slid out they still sat on for a long, precious moment of just holding one another, letting the violent emotions subside into gentler, softer feelings.

At last Bruce reached down, turned her across his lap and picked her up, standing easily with her cradled in his arms. He smiled down at her. "And now we'll try a double skinny-dip."

Jennifer shivered. "I couldn't. Not right away. Let me lie on the berth and..."

"Double skinny-dip is a bath together. A shower it will have to be, but that's very interesting."

It was. The almost warm water washed away some of the languor that gripped Jennifer and reawakened her interest in Bruce's body. It was a superb body, well muscled, with a broad chest and straight, sturdy legs. He was bigger than she had thought. His clothes made him look slender. Actually he wasn't, except that his stomach was flat and his waist trim.

Soaping his body was a new delight, a gentle, laugh-producing delight, uncomplicated by deep involvement of their bodies-though both were conscious of each other, of nudity, of the ever-present possibility that emotions might take over again.

She enjoyed the new sensation of having him soap her and then swab her body with a soft cloth. And kiss her breasts as he bent to wash her legs.

It was both a childish delight and a very solemn and mature moment, a moment to treasure, to keep in a special memory that could be taken out and relived.

He powered her body liberally from a large can of dusting powder and carried her back to her berth.

"Rest, darling. Rest and dream-I hope of me. Because we'll look at the Southern Cross tonight-and then, when we have had our fill of looking, perhaps we'll slip away. Down here. And make love again. Perhaps some different way. Or invent one of our own."

He was dressed and gone with a brief, sweet kiss on-of all places-her forehead. Jennifer felt briefly indignant and then sighed. Perhaps he was wise. A less chaste kiss might have started things all over again.

She lay there a long time, trying to sort out her thoughts. They were confused. On the one hand there was the sweetness and excitement of their lovemaking. She glanced out the porthole and gasped. And in broad daylight! As if that were more reprehensible.

Already she was beginning to feel remorse. She should have sent him away. She should have told him there would be no lovemaking after looking at the Southern Cross.

I'm a slut! I'm a pushover. I have round heels. My body is too eager, too unrestrained, too responsive. I can't -I mustn't let Bruce touch me again... Everything in me revolts at the very idea. Everything except my body itself... and that betrays me. It betrays me into...

Jennifer fell into a daydream, recounting the special horrors into which her body had betrayed her-Bruce's kisses, her excited nipples, the vast, silent explosion.

She was late to lunch.