Chapter 3
Something of the dream came back to him in the morning. It was the old, old memory of half-knowledge, half-understanding that had been with him for so many years and which seemed always to be lurking in that vague area of semi consciousness between wakefulness and sleep.
He was asleep--or was he dreaming of sleep? Perhaps he was waking while remembering another time. It was vague, misty, dark and unclear. But he was not afraid. He was safe, encompassed in warmth as thorough and wonderful as a mother's womb. Life was wet, pink velvet and he was being washed in a glory of sensual perfection.
Gradually a more total consciousness began to flow over him and he knew he was no longer dreaming. The sensation around his masculine organ was all encompassing. He knew what was happening, but he wanted to savor every thrill, every tingling and perfect sensation to the utmost, but in the dream--not the reality.
There was something about the reality of it that frightened him--that haunted some locked chamber of his inner mind.
He knew that Cybil Bryant had awakened before he. He knew she had eased herself gently down in the big bed and was slowly, luxuriantly bringing his penis to a state of rigid erection with her mouth. The sensation was perfect--a lazy totality of warm and easy thrill that flowed from his groin like a wet light to wake and warm and thrill every nerve of his body.
Still, there was something about it that wasn't all right. There was something about the very perfection of the sensations he was receiving which made him want to fall back into a state of total sleep--of unconscious, unknowing.
He was asleep, he told himself. He was completely and totally asleep and he was completely and totally safe. It was a wonderful dream that was sending the licking wet sensations rippling along his now hard penis through the nerves of his body and legs to well over him and through him surging with each movement of her tongue and lips ever closer to a total and violent release.
He lay contented in the bed. He was asleep, he kept telling himself. He refused to move even as he felt the total movements of her head increase in rapidity of rhythm.
This was the way it should be. he thought. This was the real perfection of sex. What could ever be greater than being awakened in the morning with a woman's hot, loving mouth sucking on him, licking him greedily, yet gently trying to make her first taste of the day that of his manhood erupting into her mouth and down her throat?
Although he tried again and again to fall back to a soft and blissful sleep, the increasing intensity of the sensations that were surging through him could not be denied. He was being awakened in a sea of total sensuousness and aroused in a way he could not deny.
Finally, he could not help himself. Although he did not open his eyes, his hips began to move involuntarily.
She responded to the slow, rhythmic tic of his pelvis with a gentle caress of his scrotum and loving squeeze of his testicles and a sensuous rubbing of palm and fingers over his chest and stomach.
He placed his hands on her head, ran trembling fingers through her soft hair and over the smooth flesh of her cheeks. Still with his eyes closed he felt her cheeks and lips sucking hard on his member and in an almost smug satisfaction relaxed in the knowledge that nothing--nothing in the entire world--would ever feel better than waking up like this with his shaft in a woman's mouth, with the woman eagerly licking and sucking on him in order to introduce him to the day on the tidal waves of his own ejaculation.
But he wanted to savor the sensations she was giving him. One part wanted to ejaculate instantly and reach the pinnacle of impossible pleasure while another wanted to lay back like a fat and contented cat letting each stroke of her tongue, each movement of her lips and mouth etch itself with soft abandon into the web of his nervous system.
He could not control his hips any longer. Now they were moving in a faster, more determined rhythm which alternately thrust his penis deep into the hot cavern of her mouth and withdrew it slightly only to thrust again.
From a dim far away he seemed to hear her moans and grunts of pure animal satisfaction as she tightened the grip of her lips on him and sucked greedily, eagerly--as if intent on nothing so much as swallowing his entire shaft.
Long before it actually came, he felt his body building to an ultimate release. It was the faint snapping of one pleasure-sated nerve here and the release of a tingling cell there. Unlike the sudden rush of sexual pleasure he had experienced with her the night before, this was a building of impossible and unending ecstasy from the very depths of every fiber of his being to the very pinnacle of his existence. It began at his toes and fingertips and swelled easily and gradually through him like some lazy but totally engulfing tidal wave which was destined to inundate everything in its path.
It swelled through his legs and along his chest and shoulders, it surged over his stomach and seemed to grasp his testicles in an oiled vice of compassionate flesh. Then and only then was there the final ultimate snap as of a great wire drawn overtaut. Like a cable made of many strands, he finally twanged apart one thread of his karma at a time until the cable was ultimately severed and yet still spasming again and again.
He felt as if he were ejaculating from the very soles of his feet--as if his very life's fluids were being drained totally from him. He could not stop coming and it seemed that she could not stop sucking, eagerly gulping and swallowing each drop of his semen into her hot and greedy mouth.
Again and again it seemed he spurted forth in her, each time clawing gentle fingers of release over every fiber of his nervous system. He could not stop himself. He did not want to stop himself.
It was a dream, he knew, only a dream. Yet it was real too, and because he neither knew nor cared, he swirled in a pink cosmos of pure physical ecstasy that continued so long he felt sure he would be a part of it and it a part of him forever and always.
Even after his spasms of release calmed their intensity and his tics of pelvis came at less frequent intervals, she continued to pull his penis into her mouth, to suck on its still hard flesh and to swallow the last few precious drops of his manhood dripping into her.
He lay back on the bed, eyes closed, exhausted, satiated and tried to regain the sleep from which he had been so gently yet so greedily pulled.
No--he was awake but still with his eyes closed. He could never return.
And he didn't know if he wanted to return or not. There was something in the half-dream half-reality that he didn't want to see no matter how much pleasure it brought him. There was something in it that was perfect and yet, strangely wrong and laden with feelings of fear and guilt. In the dream world he was being eaten and devoured while at the same time being made to enjoy it. Suddenly, he was very frightened. He was a little boy again in a dark room and he was terribly, terribly scared....
He opened his eyes.
It was already morning. The sun's brilliant light was flooding into the large room through huge uncurtained windows. Cybil still lay on top of him, his penis still in her mouth, her contented breathing cooling the satiated flesh of his groin.
He was safe. Life was real and the dream was gone. He stroked her tousled hair with his hand and sighed.
"Damn, that was good," he said. "I thought I'd never stop coming. You sucked me right out from the heels--right out from the heels."
She sighed, and smiled, but still refused to release him for a moment longer until she had pulled his penis as deeply as she possibly could into her impossibly hot mouth, run her tongue twice around every oversensitive nerve studded along its length and then pulled slightly back. When she and his flesh finally parted, the sound was like the cork on a very fine, very expensive magnum of champagne being delicately and professionally eased out by a skilled European waiter.
Slowly she eased upward on the bed until she was lying on her side facing him. "You liked that?" she asked.
"Sure did."
"Me, too," she sighed. "I could suck on you all day long."
"Be my guest."
They both chuckled together as, gently, he reached out to stroke the flesh of one huge breast.
She shuddered slightly with the surge of tingling pleasure his fingers sent through her.
"Oh, Christ," she gasped. "When you touch me, I like to fall apart. You don't know how long it's been."
"How long?" he said. His fingers were playing on the bare flesh of her breasts. He could see the nipple rising like a pink finger to meet his touch.
"Almost forever. Ed shipped out over almost two years ago. Then when I got the news he'd been killed, I didn't know what to do. This place was the only real home I'd ever known. The house was rented to some tenant farmers, but when the old lady died her husband decided to get a job over to Whyattesville. This is where I grew up so I came back."
"You mean you haven't got yourself fucked in two years?"
She stared at him directly with level eves. "I don't care if you believe me or not. Why should I? Hell, it's no skin off my ass. But it's true. You came through the town, didn't you?"
"Yeah."
"Well, you can see if you blink your eyes walking along the highway, you'll miss it completely."
"It's no big city," he conceded.
"Hell, it's a small, small town. Sure I grew up here and it's my home and it's something safe for me, but I think it's even smaller than when I was a girl. You know what small towns are like. People would talk about anything."
"Yeah, I know." "You know what would happen if I was fucking with one of the local boys?"
"Nope."
"God," she said, "I hate to think about it. They'd probably tar and feather me--"
"Bullshit!"
"You don't think so, but it's true. You know what happened here last year?"
"Nope."
"They caught an old man, fellah in his sixties, fucking some nigger girl over near the Barrow place. They damned near killed him."
He was playing almost absently with her breast, only half listening to her words, he was concentrating on the still firm flesh and the perfect conformation of the erect nipple.
"No shit?" he said.
"It's true, I swear."
"What else is true?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I mean, you dig sucking cock in the morning. That's true, isn't it?"
She shivered and pressed her breast tighter against his hand. "You know it."
"And you like getting yourself fucked pretty good...."
She sighed.
"And you don't like waiting a long time between getting your pussy serviced."
She shook her head.
"Well," he drawled. "What else?"
"Isn't that enough?" She shut her eyes as though in contented embarrassment and rolled on her back so he could have easy access to her body.
He teased her breasts for a long moment before leaning over her and flicking each nipple with his tongue.
"Oh," she gasped. "Oh, Jesus...."
"Like it?"
"Oh, Christ! You know I like it."
He ran his tongue gently over her right nipple, pulled its erectile flesh between his lips and sucked on it gently for a moment before letting it go again.
"What else do you like?"
"Oh ... "she sighed contentedly. "I like everything ... everything...."
"Tell me," he insisted as his fingers inched downward over the flesh of her abdomen and stopped at the first silken strands of hair protecting her mound of love.
"Anything," she insisted. "Do anything. Anything you want...."
"Two years must be a long time," he teased. "You must have got your kicks some way."
"Oh...."
"Bet you did a lot of finger fucking, didn't you?"
"I ... "
"Maybe you even used one of those fancy French things...."
"Or a hot dog or a carrot or something?"
"Don't ... I...."
He slid his fingers through the soft tangle of pubic hair until his second digit was resting at the very top of her mouth of love. Below his own flesh, he could feel the wet parting of her own as her eager vaginal lips spread and dampened themselves in anticipation of sensual pleasures to come.
"Gets you hot, don't it?" he said.
"I--"
"You get all wet and open when I talk about playing with yourself, don't you?"
"No ... I...."
"Bet you were almost rubbing the hair off before I came by, weren't you?"
"I--"
He was getting impatient now. He wanted her to talk about her desires and needs and pleasures. He pulled his hand away from her and almost roughly grabbed her by the shoulders.
She opened her eyes. Their expression was one of doubt, wonderment and even a small spark of fear.
"What? What is it?"
"Talk to me," he insisted. "I want to hear. Tell me what makes you hot. Tell me how you did it to yourself when you didn't have a man around."
"I don't want to...." She turned away from him. "I don't like to talk like that...."
"But you like to grab my cock and suck on it and feel it all hot and hard way up inside your pussy, don't you? You like that, don't you? Don't you!"
"Oh, please. I...."
"Tell me. Tell me how you did yourself!"
She turned back so she was facing him again. "You really mean it, don't you?"
"Yeah. Talk sexy to me and I'll get hard again and do whatever you want."
"And you promise you won't tell--won't say a word to anyone?"
"Yeah. Sure."
"Okay, you do me like that...." she pulled his hand down to her groin again, " ... and I'll tell you a secret."
He played his second finger easily against the wet flesh of her widely spread vaginal lips, slipping easily between their folds until he could feel the soft-hard knob of clitoris he was searching for. As he stroked on it, teased it and played with it, she began to talk.
"Like I said, it's a small town and folks around here talk. I got a little money what with the rent from the farm and Ed's widow's pensions. Least-ways I got enough to hire help now and then."
He pulled his finger away. "That's not sexy" he said. "Tell me how you got your ashes hauled without no man around."
"I'm telling you. I made it with the cleaning girl."
"You a dyke?" he asked almost casually.
"No, only I had to have it. I've never been any good at playing with myself. It's not right. It could hurt your health and all. Besides the girl was colored. Right around here she couldn't say anything. Hell, nobody'd believe her."
"What'd you do?" he insisted.
"You know--"
"No, I don't. Tell me."
"Oh, nothing much. You know, feel each other's titties and sort of stroke the nipples and all--"
"That's all?"
"Sort of...."
"You mean you and this girl were playing around with one another and you didn't do anything more than feel up your titties. Hell, lady, I can't go that."
"It's true," she insisted.
"Oh, I believe it's true," he told her. "Only it sure as hell isn't the whole truth, is it?"
"Well...."
"Just like I thought. Hell, I'll bet you let that nigger gal suck on your tits all you could stand, didn't you?"
"I--"
"Didn't you?"
"Yes."
"And then when you got so hot you thought you were going to burn right up what did you do then, huh?"
"Nothing. I--"
"Bullshit! You don't think I know what you did. You pushed her head right on down to your little honey pot and told her to eat you like no tomorrow. You did that, didn't you, huh?"
"Yes. Yes."
"Bet that felt good, didn't it?"
"There were no men. I couldn't stand it. Believe me, Billy, I couldn't stand it...." She turned away from him and started to sob.
"Hell," he said gently, "I don't care. It don't matter to me."
She turned back to him and sniffed. "It doesn't?"
"Hell no. I sort of figured you liked your box eaten."
"Well...."
"I just wanted you to tell me, that's all."
"You mean that, don't you?"
"Sure. That's what I was saying."
"I don't understand you at all, Billy."
"You don't have to understand. Just feel good. Talk sexy to me, tell me what it feels like when some black gal goes down on you and eats you out."
"Oh, Jesus, Billy Joe, it was good. It was real good. Not like a man, but I couldn't help myself. She'd come over every Wednesday and dust a little and then I just couldn't help myself. I suppose you might say she seduced me and all, but I wanted it too. In the beginning she just told me she didn't like men at all, that they were always getting drunk and beating up on their women folk and that women were much safer and nicer. She told me she'd had a lot of women and then ... then ... "
"Yeah?"
"Then I just asked her. I told her about Ed being killed, only she knew that. I told her I hadn't had any loving for so long I thought my insides had dried up like alum and after that we just made it every Wednesday."
"Tell me what it felt like."
"Oh, Jesus, Billy Joe. It felt good. Not like a man, but real good. I came off every time. She knew right where everything was. I mean a woman understands a woman. Oh, God, Billy, do something. You're making me hot all over."
He leaned back and stared down at her. "What you want me to do?"
She stared directly at him. He smiled down at her, teasing, insinuating for a long moment before he said, "Well?"
"Oh, Billy Joe," she sighed and she lifted both palms and placed them on either side of his head. "Oh, Billy Joe Whyley, you are a strange one."
"What do you want, Ma'am?" She shut her eyes and gritted her teeth, then with an effort that was almost violent in its intensity she pulled his head down to her abdomen and almost cried out. "Oh, Billy Joe, don't you know? I want you to eat me. Suck on me and lick me. Make me come off that way, Billy Joe. I love it! I love it!"
"Keep talking, Lady," he said. "You tell me how. Just lead me along. I sure want you to feel a whole lot better with me than with the cleaning gal."
Gently he spread her labia with his thumbs so that he could see the hot moist inner flesh of her pink womanhood. Then with a slow determination that was almost maddening, he lowered his lips to her throbbing channel of passion.
His tongue darted into the hot cauldron of her flesh, tasted the sweet nectar of her passion and licked delicately against the almost hard knob of her clitoris.
As he moved within her he could hear her sighing and gasping, murmuring the word, "Yes," again and again until her hips began to tic gently against his jaw and, as she had the previous night, she forgot the reality of their action. Her mind spun into a nostalgic haze from which memory served as a sexual stimulant.
"Oh, Liza," she sighed. "Just like that, baby. Lick it just like that, Liza, honey."
He didn't care who she thought he was. He burrowed into the moist folds of her flesh sucking her over-long clitoris between his lips and flicking it gently with his tongue.
"Oh, Liza, suck it like that, baby. You're going to make me come, Liza."
His movements became more determined, more demanding. He could feel the very beginnings of release starting within her, then the sudden gasp of orgasm as she slammed against him and pulled his head tight toward her throbbing pelvis.
He continued to lick and suck on her ticking of orgasm as she slammed against him and pulled away and looked into her hazel eyes.
"Now," he said. "Tell me the truth. Which was better? Me or the black girl?"
"Oh, don't you know? Don't you know?"
"I want to hear."
"Billy, you are the best thing a widow could ask for. I never in my life felt anything like that. My head almost came off."
"You sure do like your fucking and sucking," he said.
"With you. Oh, God, Billy, I want to spend the whole day with you right in this bed."
He sat up. "Can't," he said.
"Can't! Why not?"
"I got to move on, Ma'am. Got to get to Charlottesburg."
"Charlottesburg? Why ever ... I mean ... you mean you just came in here, knocked on my door and then made love to me like that and are just walking off? You can't do that, Billy Joe. I won't let you."
"I don't want to," he lied. "Honest I don't. But my Mom ... she's dying and ... well ... "
"Oh. I didn't know. I'm sorry"
"She's been sickly for a while, but now it's sure. I've got to get to her before she goes."
"Sure, I understand."
"Wish I had a car," he said. "Hell, I got laid off a while before I heard the news. Had to start all the way from Baton Rouge with only six bucks."
"Oh, you poor guy," she sighed. "You'll need more than that. Here, let me--"
"No," he said. "I really couldn't. I mean it wouldn't be right."
An hour later, Billy Joe Whyley was one hundred and fifty dollars richer than he had been that morning. He felt free and satisfied and, in some small corner of his mind, somewhat reluctant to leave the small town. But as he walked westward along the dusty highway leading to he knew not where, he realized that, much as he had enjoyed the body of the widow Bryant, there had been something about their short and passionate affair that had brought with it a harbinger of danger. She had pointed a ghost-ridden finger directly at some shrouded guilt-ridden memory of his distant past and, joyful as was the physical sensation she had given to him that morning, he knew he was afraid to stay with her any longer than he had.
Perhaps in another way on another day, she might rip the curtains away from the secret he did not want to see. Perhaps she would reveal the horrid monstrous skeleton that lurked in the guilt-ridden shadows of his subconscious mind.
Besides, he rationalized as he walked westward, he'd been a good fellow. After all, it wasn't right for a woman to go around getting herself licked down there by cleaning girls. He'd done the widow a favor really. Hadn't she said she hadn't had any real loving for almost two years?
Again he felt the money in his jean pockets and began to whistle. The shrill happy sound carried through the hot air over the fields where sweating laborers looked up to see a handsome young man striding confidently along the highway.