Chapter 9

A HOUSE THAT'S A HOME

The cab pulled to a stop.

Metal gates glimmered in the moonlight. The street to which Dick Finch had given the cab driver directions was a small cul-de-sac off the main road. It was easily obscured by the massive buildings on either side of the metal gate.

Dick paid the driver and they got out of the cab.

Through the gate Andrea saw a short roadway that led to a dead end about a hundred yards away. No cars were parked on the roadway. The gate blocked any vehicular traffic. "The residents decided to keep the cars out," Dick explained. "It was the only way we could think of to preserve the 19th Century charm of this place."

Andrea turned, glancing back the other way. Across the street towered the dark Gothic walls of the prison. A grim vision on a dark night. The windows were blank. like blind eyes, pleading for the sun. "All those unfortunate women!" Andrea shuddered. "Caged like animals."

"Our society," Dick said bitterly, "and yet we managed to go to the moon."

Andrea nodded. She took a deep breath. Shaking off the oppressive sensation of doom that had suddenly seemed to overwhelm her. With a forced smile she turned inward. Toward the charming little street Dick had taken them to.

"I never knew such lovely little spots still remained in this dark and dirty city."

"Not many," Dick replied. "Not many at all."

"Which house?"

"Third from the right."

"Number Three?"

He smiled. "Let me show you."

The house was small, but size was unimportant. It was the fact that it was a house that made it such a rare luxury in the midst of an overcrowded congested metropolis. Dick had only recently purchased the place. The upper two floors were still in the process of renovation.

"First, I'll show you the parlor floor."

Two rooms were separated by a modern kitchen. The kitchen was small but efficient. Once the upper floors were ready for occupancy, Dick planned to expand the kitchen, converting the parlor floor to a dining room. "It will be overlooking the garden, but you can't get a good view of that now. We'll have to wait until morning."

Andrea smiled.

"Come downstairs."

She followed him to a staircase. Admiring a natural brick wall that flanked the descending corridor, she asked, "You didn't have an interior decorator do this, did you?"

Dick laughed. "Of course not!"

"I knew that," Andrea smiled. "I can feel the things you like."

Downstairs was the bedroom. All of it. What had been subdivided previously into a three-room apartment had been converted by Dick into a mammoth king-sized bed chamber. Only one piece of furniture dominated the room, and that was the bed. It was a huge bed, positioned in the exact center of the room.

"It's beautiful," Andrea said breathlessly.

"I've never been so turned on by a room before. Oh, Dick, I can really feel you in here!"

He smiled, sitting down and sprawling across the bed. "Come over here next to me," he beckoned. "I want to feel you beside me."

"Wait," Andrea whispered. A slow sultry smile created an evocative expression on her face. "I want you to see me first-all of me."

Dick's eyes widened.

With a swift gesture, Andrea flung her coat across the room. It was useless, merely an encumbrance restricting the free movements of her supple limbs. The dress she was wearing was a flimsy silk garment, catching reflections of light from the muted red glow of the bedside table and whirling sparklers of color throughout the room. The effect was extraordinary. One of those inexplicable combinations of circumstance that electrify the atmosphere.

"I want you badly," Dick murmured. His voice was a throaty whisper. "I want to feel the inside of your cunt."

"With your tongue?" Andrea asked. "I like a man to tongue my cunt."

"With my tongue," Dick nodded. "With everything-my fingers, my cock. God, Andrea, I want to do everything to you at the same time. All at once! And everything!"

"Get undressed," she commanded. "Slowly. I want you to strip too. A man's body is just as exciting as a woman's. Remember, baby, you're not the only one who--likes to look at pictures."

Dick unbuttoned his shirt, with Andrea seated at the edge of the bed watching every gesture intently. Dick shivered. He could feel the excitement radiating from her eyes and burning into him. A warm sensation of lust arose in the pit of his stomach.

Fire erupted from Andrea's glance, scorching him with her eyes. Dick felt the moisture of sweat congeal in the small of his back.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered breathlessly. "This is absolutely ridiculous. I've never ... oh, Andrea, I've never felt like this before--never!"

He reached out to touch her hand. But she evaded his grip.

"No, Dick, all your clothes! I want to see you naked!"

He stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. "I must be babbling like a fool, Andrea. Maybe I'm drunk with all that wine and brandy we had for dinner. Colors seem to be exploding in my head. I don't know whether I want to laugh or cry, but I seem to want to do everything."

"Pants," Andrea pointed. "Take your pants off!"

Dick nodded. Swiftly unlatching the clasp of his belt and unzipping his fly, he propped himself up on one hip to facilitate the maneuver as he slid his trousers down.

"Slowly!" Andrea commanded. "Do it slowly."

Dick complied.

"Yes," Andrea murmured. "That's what I want to see. The way your skin looks now. In this light, with a rosy hue. It's delicious--so very delicious. I could eat you, Dick. Oh, how I'd love to put my mouth and tongue all over your body and taste all of you on my tongue-on my lips-in my mouth."

The whispered half-phrases reaching his ears sent spasms of electric excitement thrilling through his nerves.

Dick kicked off his pants, eagerly watching her face as he revealed the bulge in his shorts. "Hard?"

"Very hard," he replied. "I swear, Andrea, I really swear that my cock has never felt this hard before in my entire life. I can't believe that only a few minutes ago, in that cab, I was coming in your hand. Shooting my load! In your hand! And now I'm harder than ever, Andrea, harder than I've ever been in my life!"

She smiled. "Underpants, Dick. I want to see all of you!"

He closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he had to fight off a sensation of vertigo. No sexual experience in his life had ever had this effect on him.

He was out of balance. Disjointed. He realized he was babbling. That bothered him the most. The feeling of being a baby. Words and half-formed thoughts were dribbling out of his mouth, things he had never thought of before. There were thoughts he had never expressed, sensations he had never experienced, desires he had never felt.

The images of fire and burning seemed to blaze anew in his mind. Andrea's hand reached out to touch him. He felt as if her fingers were jets of flame, sizzling his skin, branding him like a witch.

It seemed as if he was swept into a whirlpool of a weird occult power. A force that burnt away all traces of himself. Nothing but ash and bone was left; the sensation of incense. Her mouth dissolving his flesh.

She's sucking my cock!

A tiny voice screamed in his ear. He heard the voice. Recognizing the sound, he heard his own voice. like a recording on tape. Dick Finch was narrating reality. Waves of sensation drowned out the words. All he could hear was a muffled scream.

Her mouth clamped onto his cock, welding the skin of it with fire and ice. Alternate sensations seized him. His hands gripped her head, her back, shoulder blades.

His hips were rocking back and forth in a paroxysm of ecstasy. Epileptic convulsions shuddered throughout his body.

His legs jerked apart. The boiling rumble of a volcano burst through his being.

Her mouth seized his cock hard, held it, sucked it, squeezed it, milked it, drawing more and more of the savory fluid up from the essence of his being. Up! Up! Squirting! Spraying! A deluge of semen spewed forth into her mouth!

Dick screamed!

Black. Darkness. A cloud descended and separated him from thought and feeling. Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? A small voice dwindled in a dismal corner of his mind until the lights went out.

"Dick..." He blinked.

He stirred slowly, the sensation of life returning to him. His limbs ached, as if some violent exertion had strained every muscle and fibre of his body-back, thighs, pelvis. He stretched and yawned. Dick opened his eyes.

"Andrea?"

She smiled.

He propped himself up on an elbow. He blinked again, forcing reality to come back into focus. He tasted his mouth. It was dry, acrid and slightly bitter. It was the taste of too much wine.

"How do you feel?"

His stomach rumbled. A belch making its way up from the lower intestine, gas near his ribs, heart-burn. The sauce on the duck he had eaten for dinner had been too rich.

"The whole meal was too heavy."

He gasped. That was his first thought. Andrea had seemingly read his mind. Expressing his thoughts before he could utter them. "Andrea..."

"Sshhh," she whispered, putting her finger to his lips. "Words aren't necessary, Dick. We don't need to use them."

He looked at her. Awe and wonder were like flickering lights that crossed his face. It was so obviously true. Nothing need be said or done. He realized that she was naked too.

A moment before, as Dick recalled, he had been stripping off his trousers while Andrea had been perched on the side of the bed. She had been clothed in a flimsy silk garment.

Then, only blackness and a ... sensation of sucking. Now they were both completely nude, stretched out together in a rumpled tangle of sheets.

How to put it all together?

He felt he owed himself the attempt. He wanted to retrace the route they had followed. A tangential trail of circumstance. But what's the point, Andrea seemed to say, her voice somehow spoke from within his mind. What's the point of trying to remember? He nodded. Wanting to agree with her, but...

"Thinking about the taxi?"

He nodded.

"That's all right, baby," Andrea whispered, stroking his face. "We were both a little drunk and we said a lot of drunken, silly things to each other, but that doesn't matter, Dick. Look how we got each other hot enough to be this close! That's all that's ever going to be important right here."

Andrea's hand descended to his cock. The moment her finger touched his penis Dick felt a spasm of desire grip his stomach like a balled fist. Intense! Jolting him back on the bed.

The reaction to the mere touch of her finger was as if he had been punched by a heavyweight directly in the solar plexus. He blinked. Tears formed in his eyes, as he felt the blood race through his system. His heart pounded like an electric jackhammer.

Not even LSD (which he had taken more than once) created such an hallucinogenic effect. Nor had any aphrodisiac ever stimulated his glands, not like this. The gentle touch of Andrea's fingers quivered through his body with a renewal of absolute sexual desire.

"Fuck me!"

He felt his body raise gracefully in the air. He was in slow motion. like a dancer, he raised himself onto one elbow and looked down at her face.

His eyes fell into her smile. Her glance enveloped him. Over her thigh he swung his body, like a heron on a wind-swept beach gliding down to land in the surf.

Poised on his knees, her cunt opened to the pressure of his penis. He moved forward-endlessly forward. His cock seemed to glide through a garden of violet shrubs. Trees parted and he descended into a pink valley. Part of his sensation was aware of her cunt as a muscle reaching out to engulf him. Other sensations were sharp and staccato. Time bounced on his elbows.

Fucking. . .

Effortlessly, until all of his prick was encased in the velvet warm scabbard of her pussy. His cock was enshrined in her body. A distant strain of music seemed to filter through his ears.

A rhythm, a tide, a melody, and a chorus. Both bodies began to move, mating and meeting; melting and melding. Each face was glued on the other. Energy crackled. Sparks fizzled. Around them the 4th of July was ready to explode.

On they fucked-like the eye of the hurricane. Feeling themselves lashed by the tempestuous winds of lust. Scourged by the tidal waves rippling from the ocean floor. Fossils, chambers and shells.

Dick screamed! like a salmon upstream. Water was Andrea whirling in a pool. Her cunt was a vacuum. One after another.

"NOW."

"NOW!" they screamed together: dying in the juice of their come ... arms entwined in the grip of sleep: exhaustion severing the nerve.