Chapter 5
Heather lived nearby, and when I asked her whether I could drive her home, and she said yes, I was mildly, but happily surprised. Before we left, we had a drink or two more, and we continued with our easy, free-flowing conversation. Heather was an easy person to talk to, I discovered, and although I was lying to her about who I really was, I found I could be honest with her about how I felt and what I thought. And really, isn't that a more important kind of honesty? With her, I didn't have to play my role as an important man, as the head of a powerful company. I found with Heather, I could be myself-my real self, or as close as I could be and still be Steven Brooks. I told her about this vague feeling of dissatisfaction that had recently come over me-the very same thing I had unsuccessfully confessed to
Harvey Curtis. Naturally, I eliminated the personal details concerning who and what I was, and I dwelt more at length as to how this depressing mood made me feel. She paid careful attention to my words, for it was obvious that she was really listening to me, and it made me feel strangely moved. And what was even more important, Heather was sympathetic and interested, and tried with sincere words and a few appropriately kidding jokes to console me and bring me out of my depression. She seemed really to care about me, and to prove it, she even went as far as telling me about her secret method of spinning her prized glass flowers. This too moved me, for I was only a stranger to her, and I took this revelation on her part as a supreme gift of trust and confidence in me.
So we had a drink or two more and we left. I led her to my car and felt again that same tightening in my stomach when she slid into the seat next to me as I had when I first saw her, several hours earlier, when she approached me at the bar. What was that feeling? Was it anxiety? Could it be that I, Brian Caldwell, the supreme cocksman, the super swinging bachelor, the man who has probably fucked more beautiful women than any other man in the whole state of California-could it be that I was afraid? Afraid of this strange hippie girl who called herself Heather?
But-why? I asked myself. What did I have to be afraid of? Why was I so tense? Could it be that I was afraid of being rejected by her?
The fear surfaced and I realized it was true. I was afraid that she would not like me. I was so used to being accepted-at buying my acceptance-that I was afraid to face a real person without my protective armor. I felt naked in front of her, small, almost her equal, and it was something I hadn't felt or been exposed to for such a very long time. I didn't know whether I liked the feeling or not. But it was new, and in a way that was refreshing.
The roads were dark and I still didn't know where I was so I let Heather direct me. The car wound around a few slow nighttime curves and I found myself heading back up towards the hills, in the direction of Santa Teresa. The night was pleasant and cool and she suggested that I put the top down. I did and I could see the stars. They hung dark and vivid in the deep blue sky, and the clear mountain air made them seem closer than I can ever remember having seen them. They looked like ripe fruit, hanging from a tree, waiting for someone to reach up and pluck them down.
We drove on in silence broken only by Heather's few, economical directions, and touched by the coolness of the night and the dim light of the stars. I could hear the wind rustling darkly through the trees and the underbrush, and the sound was crisp and new, as the sound of spring should be. The gray concrete road split off to the left.
"You have to go that way," Heather said, pointing.
The road to the left was narrower and wound more tightly, spiraling up the mountain like a corkscrew. We were closer to the trees now. They were on either side of us, and their thick foliage and branches interlaced above our heads so that the stars only peaked through an occasional open space in the leaves. We wound around the road for a few more minutes, then came to a small driveway.
"Pull over here," Heather instructed. "This is where I live."
I parked my car next to a battered cream-colored old Volkswagen. On the side window I could see a decal for Santa Teresa College. I hoped the car was Heather's.
"Do you live alone?" I asked. I was looking up the hill a way, and there I could see a small, wooden cabin silhouetted against a few dark trees. The cabin was dark, and it looked like an old, perhaps abandoned hunting cabin.
Heather followed my line of vision, and when I allowed my eyes to fix themselves again on her face, I saw she was smiling.
"Yes, I live alone," she said, still smiling. "What did you have in mind?"
"Nothing. I was just curious. Do you rent the cabin or are you just using it."
She laughed. "No, I'm renting it. From a woman down in the valley. She owns it and she rents it to College students. Is there anything else you'd like to know?"
I felt myself tense up. It was going badly. "Nothing, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so nosy. If you could just give me the directions back down..."
Heather laughed again, and her laughter touched me in the darkness like something warm and light. "Steve, I'm surprised at you! Don't you know when you're being kidded? Do you really want to know the way back?"
I didn't answer, sensing something in her question.
"I'll tell you what-I'll give you the directions in the morning. It will be easier to see in the light."
A thrill went through me with her words. It was what I wanted, more than anything else. She had read my mind and answered my secret wish.
We walked in silence to the cabin door, and I waited in the darkness while she opened it with her key. The cabin was equipped with electricity, and a sudden flow of white, almost binding light flooded the darkness.
"Welcome to my home," Heather said.
We entered a room that was strangely new for me, but was, I guess, a very typical "hippie pad." Across from me was a huge poster, taking up most of the wall, of an optical design. It was black and orange, like a sun burst, and the black lines spread out from the orange center like spokes of a wheel. The whole effect was like a wheel, and the alternating lines of black and orange gave the feeling that the whole poster was spinning.
Just under the poster was a small three-shelf bookcase, filled with books. There was another next to it on the left, and another on the right, side wall. The one on the right was next to a window, and there was a huge peace symbol, the size of the whole window pane, painted on the window.
On the left-side of the room there was a doorway leading to another room beyond, but it was dark, and I couldn't see beyond a few feet. To the right of the doorway there was a third three-shelf bookcase, and above it was an abstracted silhouetted poster of a man's profiled face. The poster was titled: Dylan.
I took this all in in a matter of a few seconds, standing in the doorway of the cabin entrance. I must have hesitated a second or two longer than expected, because Heather turned and looked back at me.
"Come on in," she said, smiling. "I won't bite you. I promise."
I stepped into the room quickly; perhaps too quickly because I was trying to cover over my hesitation. There was a soft, well-worn forest-green rug on the cabin floor, and I had to lift the door slightly to close it. On the back of the entrance door there was another poster, only this one was in the form of a Wanted Poster. The criminal wanted for rebellion and rabble-rousing was Jesus Christ.
"Well, what do you think of my place?" Heather asked as I turned back toward her.
"It's fascinating," I said, and I was really fascinated. All I could think of was my decadent, mirrored bordello of a bedroom. The contrast in styles made me grasp for a comparison by which I could measure their differences.
"It's fascinating," I repeated, fixing my eyes on the swirling black and orange op-art poster.
"Well," she said, somewhat condescendingly, "it's home. And comfortable."
"Don't depreciate it. It's really nice. It's certainly unique."
"You're being nice, Steve, and I appreciate it. But I long ago decided that if it couldn't be expensive, it could at least be comfortable. This is a room you can relax in."
I walked over to the large, wide bookcase on the right side wall and looked through the titles. I noticed that this bookcase held all hard covered books while the other, smaller cases were filled with paperbacks. My eyes traveled over the alphabetized titles and authors: science fiction, serious literature, mysteries, textbooks: a complete range of taste's and interests.
"Do you want to write something on my wall?" Heather asked.
I turned back towards her. She was sitting on a blue-covered studio couch that was to the left of the entrance. On the wall behind her was a poster of Simon and Garfunkel and several hand-painted oil-paintings, probably painted by Heather. But she wasn't pointing to this wall, she was pointing to the wall on her left.
I walked slowly over to the couch, staring at the wall. It was covered from floor to ceiling with graffiti. I read several, and some were funny, some were obscene, and some were interesting.
"Do you feel like writing something?" she asked again. She was holding a black felt-tipped pen in her hand. "Even if it's just your name or a small drawing. It's something to remember you by. Everyone who comes in has to sign my wall. It's my wall of memories."
I took the pen from her and signed Steven Brooks and added today's date. I couldn't think of anything more original than that, and I felt just the slightest-bit fraudulent as it was. Still, I had gone too far with my charade and I couldn't extricate myself without looking like a fool, so I compounded the felony.
While I was immortalizing my lies on Heather's wall, she had gotten up from the couch and came around next to me. To my right there was a record cabinet with a record player on top of it. She bent down and removed an album from the cabinet. The room was filled with the sudden hum of sound as she turned the turntable on, and I watched as she carefully placed a record onto the machine. It was a Beatles album, Sgt. Pepper, and the selection was "A Day in the Life." The sort of sad sounds of the singing filled the room.
I sat back on the couch, resting my head against the wall, and I watched Heather bend over again as she reclosed the record cabinet. The material of her tight-fitting jeans pulled tautly across the broad swell of her well-rounded ass, and the peace symbol sewn to the right cheek of her pants reminded me of an obscenely winking eye.
A peace sign, I thought, looking at Heather's broad ass. How appropriate. A peace of ass.
Heather returned to the couch and fell casually beside me. She stretched her legs out in front of her, spreading her thighs as she strained forward. Her shoulder was pressed against mine, and I was very aware of her body. As I looked across at her, I caught a glimpse of her naked breast under the bunching folds of her shirt. The sudden sight of her nakedness gave me an erotic stirring in my groin, and I could feel my cock elongating in sexual anticipation.
The music filled the air, and it seemed perfectly suited to my previous mood of dissatisfaction, and perhaps even despair. Maybe that's why she chose it: to match my mood. And perhaps there was no reason.
Heather yawned. "Gee. I'm tired. How do you feel?"
I felt obliged to stretch. "A little tired."
I stared again at her breast, trying to bend my head low enough to see her nipple, but the fold of her shirt hid the tip of the tit from my sight. But the flesh was pink; soft and warm looking. I listened absently to the music, stretching again.
Heather lifted her head from the back pillow of the couch and looked over at me. "Do you feel like doing some hash? I have a little chunk, but its powerful. Three-tokes and you're stoned."
I considered this for a moment. "No, I don't think so. Thanks though."
"I don't really feel like it either," she confessed. "I just thought I'd ask."
We sat in silence for a few more minutes, listening to the record draw to its loud, crashing conclusion, then its final, drawn-out, lonely closing chord. The needle clicked in the end grooves of the record, then the arm swung up, and the record began again.
I was very aware of the silence, and it seemed as though Heather and I were listening to it as carefully as we had listened to the music. It was a waiting silence. I was waiting, and she was waiting for me.
I took a deep breath and made my move. I pushed myself up and swung my arm around Heather's shoulders, pulling her close to me. Her body was soft and warm, and she slid effortlessly across the couch under the gentle pressure of my arm. Our bodies came together, and I found myself kissing her.
Heather's mouth was open, and her tongue slid between my lips. It was wet and slippery, prying open my mouth like an erotic lever. Our tongues touched, and it was like electricity between us. A thrill of excitement went through me at the contact, and I sucked in, pulling the thick softness of her tongue into my mouth. She tasted clean and warm, and I sucked on her tongue and swallowed her saliva as I rubbed the edge of my teeth back and across the swell of her tongue. Her tongue darted and moved like a live thing, almost as if it had a mind of its own, and it slithered like a snake between my lips, exploring the damp, hidden secrets of my teeth and tongue and cheeks and the roof of my mouth.
We were still sitting upright, with Heather bent over, resting on top of my chest with her leaning body. My arm was around her shoulder, holding her close to me, and I felt an inexplicable thrill of happiness when I felt her hand come up from between us, and touch my face. She caressed my cheek with her open palm, rubbing my face as she might if I were her long favorite lover. The touch excited and pleased me, and made my confidence grow immeasurably.
I kissed her more ardently now, lashing back at her stabbing tongue with my own tongue as I jabbed into her mouth. Her mouth was sweet and hot, and I tried desperately to stuff my tongue down her throat as though I were seeking the burning core of her soul so that I might taste it. Our teeth ground together and my lips grew numb and raw from the intensity of our kissing, yet neither of us abated our efforts. That was not to be even considered; the intensity of the pleasure was much too high.
My lips broke away from its kiss, and I slid my mouth around to her neck and ear. My eyes opened for a moment, and could see she held her eyes closed. Her lips were wet and trembling, and the easy white curve of her bent neck seemed more than inviting to my lips. I pressed my mouth to the spot at the top of her neck, just below the ear.
My tongue stabbed inwardly, hotly. "My God," I whispered desperately. "I wanted to do this ever since I met you. The moment I saw you I found myself attracted to you. I wanted you."
Her body trembled as my tongue explored the inner warmth of her ear. I tasted her hair in my mouth like fine, web-like threads of silk. I curled my tongue into a cylinder and pushed into the tightness of her ear's canal. She trembled again, sliding her hand around my shoulder until she was almost clawing at my body in her attempt to pull me closer to her.
My passion stimulated me as I realized her excitement was genuine. There was no falseness of pay in her excitement. Heather's body was growing hot-hot for me.
I ran my hand up the side of her body, cupping the firm softness of her breast in my hand. I squeezed in with my fingers, testing the resiliency of her flesh. My hand was filled and overflowing with her hardness, and in the center of my palm, even through the coarse material of her work shirt, I could feel the stiff, throbbing scrape of her nipple.
I continued to squeeze her tit a few more times, lapping my tongue in and out of her ear, and then I moved my hand and fumbled awkwardly with the buttons on her shirt. My fingers were trembling as I parted the material and slid my hand in against her warm, naked flesh.
"Yes, yes!" Heather moaned. Her body tensed under my touch as though she were concentrating all her energies into feeling the touch of my hand against her. "Yes! Touch me. Touch my tits. Play with them. Play with them hard!"
My fingers slid around her tit, palming the hill of warm flesh as though it were a ball. I squeeze in and moaned into her ear with my own excitement at the feel of her naked body. Her flesh was warm and hard under my touch, and I flicked her nipple rapidly back and forth with my index finger.
"Pinch it!" she said. "Pinch the nipple with your fingers. God, it feels so good!"
I took the firm, stiff nipple between my index finger and thumb and pressed in. Heather's body seemed to turn to liquid under me, melting almost and molding her body against mine as I pinched in. I felt the pressure of my pinching fingers make the nipple deflate, then as I relinquished my grip, grow hard and hot again; harder and hotter than it had been a moment before.
"Do it again!" she moaned, trying to bring her legs around so that she could press them against my body. "Do it again! Oh, my tits are so sensitive! It feels so good! Take them in your mouth and suck them! Suck my tits!"
Nothing could have been more pleasing to my ears than those words of Heather's. My mouth was aching to take her stiff, pert nipples between my lips and suck on them until they got harder and bigger in my mouth. I wanted to feel them scrape against my teeth, and I wanted to lash my tongue against them until they were slippery with my dripping, hot saliva.
I tried to pull the tit through the opening I had parted down the front of her shirt, but the orb was too big. I fumbled a moment or two with the buttons again, trying to open them so that I could pull her breast free, but at last, I became frustrated because I couldn't move fast enough, and I pulled at the hem of the shirt, finally pulling it free of the binding tightness of her jeans. I pulled the material up her body and flipped it back so that her high, large tits were exposed.
I stared at them for a moment-they were so beautiful, so well formed!-and then I bent my face forward and sucked the nipple of one breast into the wetness of my mouth.
It was like fire touching my tongue, and I moaned with the pleasure I was bringing to her. I pursed my lips into a tight circle around the tip of her breast, and I sucked upwardly, pulling the nipple into my mouth. I could feel its heat against my teeth and lips, and I dabbed my trembling tongue into the center of it, depositing a drop of saliva on the very tip, in the very center, of Heather's cherry-like nipple.
"Oh my God!" she moaned, squirming. I could smell the perspiration of her body growing stronger as her excitement heightened. "Suck it, please! Steve! Suck it hard in your mouth!"
I grabbed the tit with my hand to steady it because Heather was thrashing about so wildly in her excitement. My fingers dug into the warm flesh, pinching upward, and offering the nipple to my lips.
I lashed it with my stiff tongue as though I wanted to punish it with pleasure. I flapped my tongue rapidly back and forth and felt Heather trembling under the pressure of my attack as though it were pain and not pleasure that I were administering to her. The nipple grew large and swollen, throbbing in my mouth, and saliva dripped down the flesh of the colloidal orb and wetted my fingers. The whole top of Heather's tit was bathed in wetness, and the bright pink nipple slipped in and out of my mouth.
"You're driving me crazy!" Heather moaned, and she slid her hand between our bodies, pressing her fingers into my cock. She gripped the rock-hard organ through my pants, locking her fingers into my flesh, pinching me back as though she were trying to get even by returning the pleasure I was providing for her.
"You're so big," she crooned. Her hand ran up and down the length of my cock. "My God! You're so big!"
Her words excited me, for I knew it was no Xanadu-paid lie on her lips. She meant what she was saying, and that excited me. I felt my cock grow harder and hotter under her caress. And, if it were possible, I felt my cock grow larger.
Heather's hand began to work on my zipper. Her fingers seemed reluctant to leave the hardness of my cock, but she eventually found the frontal flap of my pants, and her fingers worked themselves under my belt. She took the lead of the zipper in her hand, and she pulled it down.
I moaned against her tit, rubbing my teeth roughly into the nipple when I felt her hand sliding into my pants. I bit down into her, scraping the edge of my teeth back and forth, as though I were trying to saw the nipple off with my mouth. Heather trembled, and her hand thrust itself into the secret warmth down the front of my pants.
"Oh my God! Your mouth is driving me crazy! Oh, Jesus you're good, Steve! Oh, your cock is so big! It's so hot!"
Her fingers slid into the flap of my shorts, and she curled her hand around the naked flesh of my cock. The touch of her hand was excitingly hot against my aroused body, and I strained upward. She tightened her grip around the shaft of my cock.
"You're enormous!" she moaned, pulling my cock free so that it stood erect, poking from between the parted flap of my unzipped trousers. Heather's hand slid up and down the length of my exposed organ. "Steve, you're a giant!"
I let go of her tit with my hand-my mouth was doing enough work to keep it occupied for now, and I slid my fingers down the front of Heather's body. I felt the smooth flatness of her naked stomach, then the lumpy thickness of her jeans as my hand continued to move. I curved my hand around the bend of her body, between her parted, straining legs, and I cupped her cunt in my fingers.
Her cunt was hot, even through her jeans. The heat basked up, like billows of steam, baking out of her cunt and melting against my hand. I slid my fingers up and down the narrow valley between her thighs, feeling the hard firmness of her tensed, mp-straining ass as my hand slid down, and the tight columnar roundness of her legs where they connected to her cunt. The slope of her cunt was sharp and rounded, like the crest of a hill, and I could feel the crisp softness of her pubic hair under the tautly pulled material of her jeans. Heather scissored her legs suddenly, and I felt the clutching strength of her closing thighs as she captured my hand against her cunt. She pressed down with her body, pulling up with her legs, and I pressed inwardly as hard as I could, and squeezed Heather's cunt with my fingers.
"Oh, touch me there!" she moaned. She ran her hand up and down the thickness of my cock, starting at the base of my organ and running her hand all the way up until she was squeezing the knob of my cock in her fingers. "Touch my cunt, Steve! Touch my cunt!"
My tongue ran wild across the top of Heather's tit, sucking and licking and bathing the slippery mound of flesh with my hot breath and sloppy wetness, while I tried desperately to pull my hand from between her tightly locked thighs. My hand popped free, and she moaned and squeezed the stem of my cock.
"No! Don't stop!"
But I wasn't about to stop-I was going to make it better. Better for her certainly, but mostly better for me. The idea of what I was going to do excited me almost as much as doing it would.
The front of Heather's jeans were closed with a cross-work of laces, crisscrossing tightly across the broad width of her cunt. I first tried to slip my hand under the waistband of her jeans, but the material was too tight-fitting, and I couldn't get my hand down. So I began to work on the laces, pulling frantically at them in my attempt to loosen them enough so that I could slide my hand into the pants and fondle Heather's warm, wet cunt.
The laces came loose, and my hand darted into the open flap of material. The flesh of her belly was smooth and hot, and my hand slid across it, driving down, seeking the elastic top of her panties.
But Heather wasn't wearing any panties under her jeans, and my hand slid across the flesh, touching the thick, wiry crimp of her cunt hair.
"Yes!" she hissed the moment my hand touched the outer fringes of her cunt. "Yes! Do it to me-my tit and my cunt at the same time! Do my tit and cunt!"
Heather's hand was a moving blur as she slid her fingers up and down the throbbing staff of my cock. Somehow her hand was wet-perhaps perspiration or the excited excess of flowing sex juices-and the feel of her flesh and fingers against the slippery hardness of my cock was intensely pleasurable. It felt as though she were using her mouth on me, or at least her cunt. Her hand was wet and hard, slippery and moving, pumping up and down the rigid pole of my cock, causing me to tremble with burning flashes of sexual excitement.
Her cunt was thick and hairy, and my hand curved around the bend of her body as she hunched herself against me. The tightness of her pants pressed my fingers into the moist slit between the lips, and I could feel how wet and open she was from the sloppy discharge I found there. Her cunt was broad in size, and the palm of my hand barely could hold it firmly, even when my fingers were spread widely apart.
Heather groaned and squirmed under me, pressing her fingers into the thickness of my cock, as she buffeted her cunt onto my hand. She was trying to impale herself on one of my fingers. I obliged her, and thrust my middle finger stiffly between the lips of her cunt.
"Oh my God!" she cried, tightening the muscles in her cunt so that my finger felt swallowed in the constricted sucking sleeve of her vagina. It was like dipping my finger into a hot pudding, thick and wet, coating the probing hardness in a bath of molten stickiness. I stirred my finger around, scraping it gently across the sensitive flesh of her vaginal canal, and I felt Heather's thighs tremble convulsively.
"Oh, I want you," she said, trying to bend forward so that she could take my cock into her lips. But she was at a wrong angle, and she couldn't reach my cock with her mouth. "I want to fuck you!"
I began to pull at her jeans, sliding them down the tensed, parted thighs of Heather's legs. I released my hold on her tit while I concentrated on removing her pants, and I saw her pulling at her open shirt until it fell open and she slipped it from her shoulders. She was working with one hand, for the other one was still on my cock, and nothing could make her relinquish her hold on it.
I strained to get the bunched jeans past her widely spread knees, but once past this point, they fell heavily down the rest of her legs, and her furiously churning feet kicked them free, and they sailed across the length of the room. Her legs were naked now, and as I looked up at her, I saw that her shirt was off too. Heather was completely naked now.
I was leaning over her thighs to remove her jeans, so I just bent my face down, and I began to lick at her cunt. My tactile image had been correct-she was very, very hairy. Her cunt hair was spread in a high, thick vee on her stomach, and it curved around and under, and seemed to be as equally hairy in that narrow valley between her thighs. The lips of her cunt were thick and wide, like two crimson lines and I saw how they parted and revealed the wet, pink inside of her body. Sweat or discharge clung to the black hairs on her cunt lips, and the swollen bud of her clitoris was easily visible at the top of the lips, opening them like a small wet ruby.
"Eat me!" she screamed, her thighs spreading apart so widely that I thought they might slip from their sockets in her hips. "Eat my cunt!"
I slid my arms under the backs of her knees, and bent her body toward me, spreading her legs as I pulled her closer. I pressed her thighs into her stomach and dropped my lips to the lips of her cunt, and my tongue sank into her hairy mouth. We kissed like that for a long moment-my tongue stiff and inside of her cunt, my lips pressed into the lips of her wet pussy. I could feel the thick growth of her hair tickling at my nose and the thick, raunchy smell of her sex reeked in my face.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God..." she muttered, as though the intensity of the pleasure had dazed her. "Oh God, oh..."
I dug my tongue into her cunt, feeling the hairy flap of her cunt lips pressing into my mouth. Her cunt was wet and hot and the temperature of her insides was like molten lava. I could feel the tight opening and closing of her cunt's passageway moving against my mouth, as though it were saying words that no one could hear. I curled my tongue around, as I had when I pushed it into her ear, into a hard, wet cylinder, and I slid it into the constricted tightness of her closing cunt. I felt the long slippery length of the passageway around my tongue, like a clenching fist trying to lock our lips forever together. I could taste the heat of her body, the slightly salty flavor inside of her that was the combination of her sweaty cunt and her flowing sexual discharge. I rolled my tongue around in it, tasting every inch of her cuntal walls, then my mouth strained forward as I sank my tongue as deeply into her as I could. Heather trembled in pleasure as I found the tight, puckered rim of her cervix mouth, and I tickled it with the flitting tip of my tongue.
"Oh sweet Jesus!" she moaned.
I pulled myself up on my knees and hooked my elbows behind the curve of her legs so that my face was directly over her cunt. I was stroking straight down into her, and her cunt was upturned, spread widely apart by my arms, so that the top of my head was resting in the soft valley of her ass. I licked at her cervix once more, then pulled my tongue out. Her cunt was so wet, it made a sucking sound as I dislodged.
I stared down at her cunt. It was sopping wet and wide open. The lips of her cunt were split apart, almost like a glistening pink gash running down the length of her cunt. Her pussy hair was all wet, and it was matted down against her flesh. The cheeks of her ass were tensed and straining, and the tightly closed hole of her puckered ass looked like a mouth of someone drowning as it opened and closed, seemingly gasping for air.
I moved my head to her ass-hole and I licked it. Her thighs trembled and stiffened as she tried to straighten them, the pleasure was so intense. I pushed down hard with my arms, pinning her thighs back against her stomach, and I slid my tongue into her ass, as far as it would go.
Heather gasped for air, trying to suck out the fire that was burning inside of her, and she tried to scream. But no sound would come from her mouth, so convulsed was her body in its pleasure, only a wet popping noise of lips smacking against lips.
I pulled my tongue from her ass and slid it down the slit of her cunt until I was sucking on her clitoris. It was like a hot pebble under my tongue, and I could feel it trembling in ecstasy as I stroked it.
"Please ... please," Heather begged. "Fuck me! I can't take it any more! Fuck me, Steve! Fuck me!"
By now I was more than willing to accommodate her request. I slipped my arms from out between her parted thighs, and I let them fall back down to the floor. They lay open, like dead stumps, with her wet, juicy cunt between.
I had to pry her hand from my cock so that I could stand up. I pulled myself away from her body and stared down at her for a moment. The sight was breathtaking.
Heather was completely naked, with her thighs parted. She was perpendicular to the couch, leaning back so that her straight black hair seemed like splashed black ink against the blue upholstered pillow. Her breasts were heaving up and down, and her body was glistening with perspiration. The tip of one tit looked swollen and wet, with trickles of saliva still rolling down the gentle curve of the orb. Between her legs, I could see the ring of muscles that sealed off her cunt. The muscles were opening and closing, grasping for some unseen, but very desperately needed, cock.
Heather put her hand up to her breast and pulled it toward her mouth. Her tongue snaked from between her lips and she began to apply it across the nipple. She licked it once or twice more then dropped the tit.
"Fuck me, please!" she asked. She slid her hand over her belly curve until she had buried two fingers into the open red mouth between the lips of her cunt. She sank the fingers down to her knuckles, pulling them slowly in and out.
"Fuck me, please!" she said again. "Please!"
I began to tear at my clothing, letting it fall onto the floor wherever it came off. I was almost ripping at my clothing, so frantic was my need, and after a moment or two, I was as naked as Heather.
I moved towards her, and she lifted her legs, opening her cunt like a target for my cock. And I made a bull's-eye as my cock found its mark, parting the lips of her cunt as I pushed it up inside of her body.
"Oh, it feels so good!" Heather moaned, grasping my cock in her hand, stuffing it into her cunt with energetic strokes. "Fill me up with it! Put your cock in my cunt!"
Heather was still sitting, leaning back, and I lifted her thighs with my hands. I bent them back so that her toes were touching the wall behind us, bending her body almost in two, and I pushed straight down into her with rapid, battering-ram-like thrusts. I watched as the stem of my cock slid between the lips, disappearing inside of her, until the flat hairy base of my belly was pressed as tightly as the round curve of her cunt would permit. I was completely inside of her, and my pubic hair was touching her pubic hair. I slid in and out, like a moving saw, until my balls were swinging back and forth, clanging silently against the tensed swollen hills of her ass.
The backs of her legs were pressing against my shoulders, and I was fucking her standing up, rocking back and forth on my toes. I supported myself by balancing my head against the wall, and I slipped my hands under Heather's ass so that I was cradling her in my fingers. I squeezed the flesh of her ass with my hands, and thrust into her with all my might. The top of my head hurt from the pressure of the wall as I leaned against it, and the calves of my legs pulled and began to ache as I strained in and out of Heather in our awkward fucking position. But I wouldn't have changed it for a moment, and judging from the intense pleasure that was registering on her face, neither would Heather.
I looked down, staring at her as I leaned against the wall. Her eyes were closed, and she was almost slumped down on the couch, bent in half, with her legs behind her. Her mouth was closed, as though she were straining, and I could see her clenched teeth. The chords of her neck were swollen and thick, as though they would burst right through the thin membrane of her flesh.
"Fuck mel" she gritted through her closed teeth. "Oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck mel"
I lifted her ass higher with my hands, my biceps straining to support her weight, and I thrust straight down with my cock. I rocked into her cunt, balancing my knees against the cushion edge of the couch. Her cunt looked swollen around my cock, and everything was wet. I could see the slimy trail her cunt made on my cock as I pushed in and out of her, and the inside of her thighs glistened wetly from my saliva, her perspiration, and the heavy, raunchy flow of her cuntal juices. She was squeezing her tits in her hands, pinching the nipples with her fingers, and tightening her cunt in iron-like spasms every time I drove the thickness of my cock into her.
"Soonl" she told me, grunting. "Soon!"
Her cunt was like a swirling vortex: a sucking, draining puddle of scalding water, pulling me down into the molten depths of Heather's body. I could feel the whole length of her cuntal canal as it pressed against my cock, from the tip right down to the base. She worked her muscles rhythmically, rippling her cunt against the long pipe of my stabbing, thrusting cock. I thrust in and out, in and out, and my balls bounced up and down against her ass. I would cut deeply into her, and she would clutch in pleasure from the fucking, tensing her ass muscles, and would occasionally catch the sac of my balls between the closing cheeks of her ass. I would moan from this momentary pain, but forgot it in an instant because the pleasure was so high, because the pleasure was so intense. My cock felt as though it were melting inside of her; melting from the heat of her cunt and the pleasure of our fucking.
"Fuck me! Fuck me! Heather cried, still through her teeth. "I'm going to come-fuck me!"
Heather reached up and locked her hands behind her knees, pulling her body down, bending it even further behind her. She pulled down with her hands and strained up with her cunt, matching my downward thrusts with her upward hunches. I watched my cock go all the way inside of her, until I could see the tip of her cunt pulling at the hairs on my belly. I could feel the end of my cock trembling deeply in her belly, pounding against the slippery walls of her cunt. Her cunt seemed to gasp, then it opened and closed as though in a paroxysm of supreme intensity.
"I'm coming!" Heather screamed. "Fuck me! I'm commmminggg!"
Her cunt turned into a mouth, a greedy sucking mouth. I could feel it sucking at the tip of my cock, pulling on it as though she had a suction pump in her stomach. The mucousy walls of the canal began to tremble and shake, like stuttering spasms, and she screwed her cunt as tightly against my cock as she could. She ground her cunt around in a tight hard circle, pressing her swollen pussy lips against my belly, scraping the fragile bud of her clitoris against the brillo-like growth of my crotch hair. Her cunt tightened like an angry fist, biting into the flesh of my cock with its wet teeth, and she tried to squeeze it to death, or to break it off inside of her.
"Oh, I'm coming! I'm coming! I'm coming!" Heather screamed. "Steve, I'm coming!"
There could have been no doubting that-Heather was coming. I could feel her coming; I could see her coming. Her head was rolling from side to side on the back pillow of the couch, and sweat was pouring down her face. Her pleasure was etched on her features causing her upper lip to curl up and reveal her tightly drawn, gritting teeth. Her hands were still on her breasts, and her fingers were bleached white from the straining pressure as she pinched her nipples painfully in her excitement. But most of all, I knew she was coming from her cunt: no cunt could do what her cunt did to my cock, and not be coming. It just wasn't possible. No one could be that good of an actress.
Heather's cunt turned into a vise and it gripped the shaft of my cock as though it were trying to leave an indelible impression forever etched into my flesh. I felt the tight ring of muscles lock around the thick base of my cock as though it were a draw purse, and someone had pulled the closing string. The muscles closed to a narrow circle, and I could feel the blood gushing down the shaft of my cock, under pressure from the squeeze of her cuntal muscles, and fill the already swollen head of my cock until it was huge and distended in my excitement. It was as though she were trying to wring an orgasm from me.
"Oh God!" she cried, tears running from her eyes. "Oh God. Oh God!"
I felt my orgasm build, spreading across the base of my stomach like a growing pressure: like gases, volatile and churning, angrily ready to explode. I could feel my balls swelling, and my legs went weak. My jaw was trembling and I couldn't still it. Up and down my flesh I felt a fever: a burning fire that I made my flesh ache with pleasure and drove me insane with excitement as it rubbed against the naked, hot flesh of Heather's body. Inside of her cunt, I felt my cock growing, expanding, getting larger and larger until it filled her like a balloon, filling her, touching every single inch of that wet canal, growing bigger, until it was ready to burst.
"I'm coming!" I screamed, the words gushing out of my mouth like an explosion. I wanted to let her know: I wanted her to know how good it was for me, how wonderful she made me feel. "Heather, I'm coming!"
My cock turned into a flame-thrower, and hot, wet licks of flames spilled from the tip of my cock and burned out the inside of Heather's cunt. It was as though my sperm were a solid mass-some bubbling sulfurous magma-belching from the constricted opening of my cock, and flowing down into her in a thick, solid stream. I could feel the hot orgasm running down the stem of my cock, still inside me, and its heat burned me with pleasure. My balls ached from the effort of welling up such a flow, and my cock throbbed and spit it out in angry, swirling globs. It was like an endless fountain of sperm, gushing and pumping, and spilling the molten seed into the narrow tightness of Heather's cuntal canal. And I kept on coming and coming, with no end in sight, draining my body of fluid and emotions until her cunt could no longer hold the lava-flow, and I felt the sticky wetness overflowing the lips of her tightly sealed cunt, until it was like a waterfall, and a flood of semen cascaded down the gentle hills of her ass.
The effort of coming was so intense that I fell forward on her, slipping down the wall, and I found myself kissing her on the lips. Her mouth opened, and our two tongues lashed into each other, dueling viciously against each other, desperately trying to match the fire that was burning at the other end of our bodies.
My cock throbbed inside of her, expelling its thick white fluid, and Heather took my bottom lip between her teeth and bit down on it. Pain shot through my lip, and I tasted a new, slightly salty warmth in my mouth, mixing with our saliva, flowing from mouth to mouth, sealing the communion of our act, like some ancient rite, in blood.
My cock pulsed its final spurt, like some dying whale, and my body collapsed. I was drained completely. Not just sexually, but emotionally and spiritually as well. I was numb from sensation, and exhausted from experiencing all its facets. My body was a shell, and my mind rattled around inside of it like a dimming echo.
I fixed my eyes on the orange and black poster, but it seemed to be swirling madly about. I couldn't take it, and I closed my eyes.