Chapter 6
I could go on and on about the next three weeks with Harry. We were practically living together. Every night he would come to my apartment and we would make love. It got to where I was always on the brink of an orgasm just thinking about Harry. So wonderful was the sex between us. We would fuck and then we would lay together on my bed smoking and talking until we were ready to fuck again.
And we were adventurous in our lovemaking, we watched each other urinate, and I let Harry put my diaphragm in place, and we would shower together and have anatomy lessons, exploring and touching each other in every way imaginable.
Naturally, I was in love with him. And though I did not expect that from Harry really, I felt that he was attracted to me and that he respected me. Sometimes it would depress me a little, I would think that it would be nicer if we could be properly in love. If we could hold hands as we walked down the street or sat in a restaurant and had dinner or exchange kisses anywhere the urge struck us.
But for now, all demonstrations were isolated in my apartment. At work we were very formal, hardly exchanging so much as a wink in each other's direction. It did not bother me at first, in fact it did not even bother me to see Harry flirting with the pretty young things that came in to check out some reading material for the beach.
But it was not going to go on that way forever.
And finally one day I walked out of my office and saw Harry at the front desk. He was talking in a low voice and laughing lightly with an extremely pretty girl. She was rather tall with very long, very straight black hair. Even from the distance that I was, I could see that she had fabulous blue eyes and a very deep tan.
Her body would have graced the cover of any men's magazine in the country. And jealousy raged through me. Harry was looking at her with real interest. Well, how could I blame him. How could anyone not look at a young woman like that.
I watched Harry talking to her, apparently he was suggesting some reading material. My insides were livid with hurt and envy. Had Harry ever looked at me that way? I tried to think, it did not seem so.
I walked into my office and sat at my desk, I hurriedly lit a cigarette and inhaled for all I was worth. I needed a drink. Some Sherry maybe. Yes, I did have some sherry somewhere in the office, left there for the winter months and the cold drives home.
Quickly I found the bottle and poured a healthy portion into my coffee cup, I threw it down my throat in one gulp. That sort of amused me, thinking of the rule about drinking sherry: That every glass of sherry should last for half an hour. Well, I wasn't drinking it for the pleasure of the taste at the moment, I was drinking it for its effect, the burning of the liquor which might be a cross fire to the fires of jealousy.
I poured myself another round and this time I drank a little slower, letting each swallow slide down my throat.
What was wrong with me, hadn't I told myself that this would happen, that eventually Harry would find someone his own age whom attracted him more than I? Had not I known that from the beginning, had not I told myself to enjoy it while it lasted and don't put anything more than that into it?
It hadn't worked out that way. I had been starving for affection for too many years and Harry was too fucking good in bed. My body needed him now like a drug. Yes, it was a compulsion, it was something I could not help.
I asked myself if I could share Harry with other women, if it were possible to be that casual about loving him. I supposed that I would that I would do anything to have him part of the time at least, just occasionally to have him hold me in his arms. I knew that I would be a dead person in between those times, that my flesh would age and my days and nights would be filled with a loneliness that I had never really known.
The loneliness of sexual need.
I took another hit of the sherry and lit another cigarette. I gazed at the piles of work on my desk, tons of paper everywhere. I was neglecting my work, I was neglecting everything but Harry and anything that had to do with our relationship.
Suddenly I found, compounded with my sexual jealousy, the guilt of all that unfinished work and I felt real bad. I poured another sherry and by the time I had finished that I was still conscious of all the worries, but they couldn't seem to make too much of an impression on me. Sort of like novacaine.
I got through the rest of the day in a blurry silence, dealing with the patrons of the library in the best way I knew how and trying to concentrate on some on the piling paperwork. I avoided seeing Harry.
Toward the end of the day he knocked on my door. I told him to come in.
He walked right up to me after he had shut the door and putting his hand on my right breast he kissed me really hard. I melted right then and there.
But then he held back and looked at me, "Shit, Jane, have you been drinking?" I shrugged, "What's it to you?" Harry looked puzzled, but he seemed to have something else on his mind. "Listen, Jane, I'm r going to be late getting to your place tonight."
"Oh?" I said, perhaps a little sarcastically, "Do you have another date?"
Harry took hold of my hand, "No, just some friends of mine asking me to take in a movie. I'd bring you along but...."
"Oh sure, sure," I said, nearly doubling over with the pain, "You go on ahead with your firends and have a good time. But what time can I expect you?"
"Well, we're planning on going to the early show, so that gets out at nine. I should be over at your apartment by ten o'clock. That's not too bad is it? I found some really interesting pornography as I was pulling the K thru L section ... I thought maybe we could read to each other."
I looked down at some papers on my desk, "Are you tired of me, Harry?"
Harry sat down on the top of the desk and put his hand on my head, "That's not it, Jane, not it at all. It's just that there are other things I want to do. Perhaps its unfortunate that you can't come. Perhaps we should be courageous enough to say fuck them all and go where and when we want. But even if we were willing to risk all the talk and action, somehow I don't think you would enjoy my friends all that much. And to be quite frank with you, I think they would feel uncomfortable with us."
Harry seemed so wise to me, so fucking wise. Here was this little kid, because that's really what he was, telling me all this shit, which I suppose I was equally aware of, but was ignoring in the face of my passion for him.
My passion for Harry refused to accept the outside world. I only wanted my world to be the world of our bed, of our sexual glands and our private company. That was the only thing that was worth anything to me, to my lousy, boring life. But I also realized that Harry was not me, that he was youth incarnate, that life held promise for him, still held surprises for him, that he believed in himself and in the world.
It made me very sad to think of this difference between us. A shadow of difference that was our age. Maybe it wasn't even our age, maybe if I had been a different person that gap would not have existed, but then again, neither would our love have existed.
I looked up at Harry and again the feast of my eyes stung me to my very being. How much I wanted him, how much I needed him. It frightened me in the realization.
Painfully, I smiled at him, "All right Harry, I'll see you later tonight then." I reached out and touched his arm. Harry pulled me up from my seat into an embrace and we kissed for quite some time.
Once again I felt those old urges begging my body for release, for love, for liquid love, for the entry of Harry's cock into my body. It left me breathless and longing for time with him. For the comfort of the weight of his body. The emptiness of his departure from my office was awful.
I went home and made myself a small supper, but I didn't feel like eating. My stomach was too full of butterflies and my head was aching. I found myself drinking vodka, my eyes looking about my rooms for something to distract my terrible attentions. I wandered about, looking into mirrors at the sad face that looked back.
Hours passed somehow, I was watching the clock, waiting, waiting for Harry to come. The evening passed into dark night and soon it was ten o'clock, and then eleven o'clock, but still there was no Harry. Not even a phone call.
I thought I would lose my mind, I tried to reason with myself, saying that he was only a kid, that he wasn't worth all the worry. But my hands clenched and unclenched themselves and I knew that all the reasoning in the world would have no effect on the urgings of my body. My body which begged me to go out and seek him and bring him back to the darkness of my cunt.
And finally, when I could stand it no longer, I grabbed a sweater and left my rooms. I had no idea where I was going once I got into my car. I drove around for a while and when I passed the library I noticed that there was a light on. I thought to myself that perhaps I had been so preoccupied with thoughts of Harry that I had neglected to turn off all the lights, so I pulled into the parking lot and went to the door.
I unlocked the door and went in. The dark silence of the stacks and rows of books was somehow comforting. For a moment I just stood in the middle of the library inhaling the sensuality of the place.
That may seem a strange reaction to something like a library, but nevertheless for those who can feel such things that is the way it is. There is something about a library that is a breathing flesh. There is a hush in such a place, but in that hush is a million voices of a million minds and bodies, there contained the physical actions of those dead and living. A record of the human comedy, of the human conceit, of human love and hate.
You don't even have to know how to read to feel it.
My skin crawled from the aura of silence and knowledge, but it was a good feeling. It was the best feeling I had had all day. It was like fresh air to my confused mind, my twisted body.
Suddenly I heard the sound of a match being lit. It was coming from my office, where also came the source of pale light. I quietly walked back to the room and looked into the door. To my surprise I saw Carol sitting at my desk with her feet up, smoking a cigarette and reading a book.
"What are you reading, Carol?" I asked.
Carol nearly jumped right out of her flesh she was so startled. One hand flew to her breast as she looked at me with wide eyes.
"Damnit to hell, you scared the shit out of me, Jane."
"I'm sorry, but what the hell are you doing here so late?"
"I might ask you the same question."
"And you may, but I asked first."
Carol shrugged, "I'm reading, and what better place to do it than a library?"
"What's wrong with lying in your own bed at home reading?"
"I live in a boarding house with eleven other girls who have exactly eleven record players and countless male friends climbing in and out of the windows."
I sat down on the desk while Carol was talking. I was thinking what a strange girl she was. At her age, she had absolutely no interest in the opposite sex ... and yet she was so lovely, such a beautiful body.
"Now, Jane Andrews, what the hell are you doing here at this late hour?"
"I was looking for something to read."
"Bullshit."
"All right, I was driving by and saw the light on and thought that I had forgot to turn it off."
"Ah-ha! and what were you doing driving around this late at night?"
"I don't know, Carol; I just don't know."
Carol knitted her brows and her hands together, "What's up Jane? What's bothering you? You can talk to me, you know, you can say anything to me."
I sat down on another chair. How wonderful it would be to talk to someone, to get some feedback on this miserable situation. I could trust Carol, I knew that. There was something very odd about the young woman, but I did feel that I could trust her.
"How well do you know Harry Smyth?" I asked, averting my eyes.
Carol snubbed out her cigarette. "Not very well, seems to be a nice chap, though."
"I'm having an affair with him."
Carol was silent for a few minutes while she absorbed that one. "You mean he's the gentleman you stood me up for?"
I nodded. And then I told her everything. I told her about how I had witnessed Harry and the young lady in the supply room sucking each other, how I had confronted Harry and fallen waste to his administrations, how later we had gone to bed and how we had been doing it for some time. I told her of the extent of my passion and I told her of the extent of my jealousy and then I told her about tonight.
When I was finished Carol came over to me and sat on the edge of my chair, her body brushing against mine.
"Jane, Jane, you've really got it bad, don't you? Look at you, you're so frustrated you can hardly cope. The trouble is you're sexually addicted to this one person. It doesn't matter that you're older than him, that is irrelevant. It matters that you're so concentrated on him. I can help you right now, sort of give you a tranquilizer. Will you let me?"
"Anything, anything," I said, tears of self-pity streaming down my face. "I trust you Carol, I really do."
"Good," Carol said and began to fondle my hair, "You are a beautiful, intelligent woman who's got herself into a bind. Later you can worry the emotional aspects of this, but right now let's attend to the body."
Carol's hand slipped down to my tits and she began to unbutton my blouse.
"Carol...," I began.
"No, no, you said that you would trust me. I won't hurt you, I promise I won't hurt you."
I decided to wait and see. In my distraught frame of mind, I might have gone along with anything. Perhaps if Carol had suggested suicide or murder I would have gone along with it. I don't know.
But what she was doing to me now was easier than thoughts of violence. My body needed physical contact and she was giving me that. At that moment her hand was caressing my breasts, diving down into the flesh and touching the nipples in a most arousing fashion.
"Ah," she whispered, kissing my hair, "What beautiful breasts you have. Mine are not so nice from all the dancing and the exercising."
"I would like to see, can I see?" I asked.
Carol nodded against my head. And my clumsy hand fumbled with the front of her shirt. Unlike me, she wore no bra and her firm, small breasts tumbled into my hand as soon as the material was removed.
She seemed lovely to me. And her hands, unlike a man's hand, even a young man's hand were so smooth and soft and so tender. The caress of this woman was so different from that of a man. She seemed to know where and how it would feel best, give the most comfort and the most stimulus. Unlike the rough, curious touch of a man, the desperate grope in the dark.
Her long fingers arched over my flesh and rubbed tenderly, tenderly as if she were trying to cast a spell, a healing spell over my body.
She was succeeding. A strange aura of comfort and well-being began to flood my being. My thighs relaxed and my back, I slipped down a little in my seat. I was also aware of a vague stirring in my loins.
Her other hand had by this time slipped down between my thighs and was caressing its way up underneath my skirt, moving towards my pussy which was already secreting juices of oblivion.
Suddenly her hand was working its way into my underpants and softly exploring the parts of me there. She touched my clit, oh so softly, oh so nice. Her touch on me there was so expert that immediately, almost the instant that her fingers made contact my body responded violently. She seemed to know all the centers of arousement of my body. There seemed to be no secrets from her, and I suppose it was only logical since she was another woman.
"Touch me, too, touch me there." She whispered into my ear.
I felt for the front of her pants and unzipped them. I moved my hand down into her underwear. I was excited, I had never explored another woman's cunt before. I wondered if it would be different from mine, would it be bigger, smaller, hairier.
I found Carol's cunt to be very neat, small, and I could feel very little hair down there. I found her clit, too, and tried to imitate the actions she was laying on me.
Carol squirmed about. The chair was rather too small for the both of us and soon we had moved to the rug on the floor. It was a nice rug, since the library was all carpeted well to insure the silence of the room.
I stretched back on the rug and allowed Carol to undress me. I felt no shame and no modesty in her presence. I felt proud of my body in the light of her admiration.
Soon my breasts were exposed and then my skirt was removed and my underwear and I lay totally naked on the rug with little shivers of delight running up and down my spine.
Carol then stood up and quickly removed her own clothing. I thrilled at the sight of her lovely body. Her dancer's body, the strong calve muscles and the strong thighs, the strong arms, well-developed and graceful she was all over.
Her firm little breasts heaved from excitement. Every part of her seemed magnificent from the length of her long neck to the arch of her feet.
"How really beautiful you are." I said.
"I was thinking the same of you, Jane," she said, smiling serenly. But then we didn't talk any more. She kneeled down beside me and then came down to the floor and we embraced, lying on our sides.
We pressed our female bodies together and I thrilled at the feeling of her warm, soft skin. Our breasts were pressed together and I thought how I had never felt anything so wonderful as this. How very different, how very nice.
We began to squirm together, working our bodies out on each other, pushing our tits together harder and our pelvic bones together, so that our cunts were rubbing each other. We twisted our legs around each other's legs and wiggled our asses around.
It began to look like a desperate struggle as our excitement grew in pitch and velocity....The need in us developed and we clung together for desire and satisfaction.
Carol's hand worked its way down to my cunt and with one finger she explored the inside of my cunt and with her thumb she massaged my clit, all very expert, very fine. My hand caressed her ass and I felt for the asshole below the firm mounds of flesh that was Carol.
We continued to explore each other's bodies for some time, and our desire was reaching a fever pitch. I felt like I could have come just like that, it was so new and wonderful. But Carol had other things in mind.
"Jane, Jane," she whispered, after kissing me passionately, "I want to taste you, I want to taste your cunt."
I nodded to her and she slipped down my stomach to the center between my legs. She waited a moment, taking a good look at my cunt and now exploring me with both hands and most of her fingers. Her fingers lightly dancing over the flesh there, the wet flesh warm with desire for her, for her hands.
And then her lovely head sunk down into my twat and I felt her tongue working up and down my cuntlips and thrilling me with their multiple actions and designs. She pressed her lips into my cunt and sucked on the lips and then she would suck on the clitoris all the time using her tongue very skillfully, whirling it around my love button and sucking gently.
I wanted to taste her cunt, too. I had never tasted another woman's love juice, and this was a preiminent desire with me at that point. I began to make my intentions clear by working my body around.
She knew exactly what I wanted and she loved the idea, she helped me and soon we were positioned in a sixty-nine and I was looking at her lovely, not-so-hairy cunt. The aroma of it was enticing, delightful. I felt a terrible urge to just violently sink into it and slurp her up like a mad animal.
But I wanted to please her as much as she was pleasing me, I wanted to take it slow, sensually. I sniffed at her and then I tasted her with my tongue.
My tongue went directly up into the dark, warm hole of her cunt and felt the flexing and secreting muscles up there. She, too was exploring my inner cavity with her tongue, with her lips pressed tightly against my cunt.
It was such a grand feeling as we held tightly to each other's buttocks and sucked and licked each other's juices. I touched her strong thighs and I sucked her clitoris. We rapidly approached the height of lust, our bodies going mad on the floor as we worked in each other's cunt.
I whimpered into the aroma of Carol, and soon we had each other's thighs wrapped around our legs and we were humping against each other's faces. The body took over and the mind slipped into oblivion. My groin was alive and burning against her hair and I squirmed and cried out on the floor.
I wanted more and more of her. I wanted all that she had to give. I wanted to swallow all the juice of her body, I wanted to press her into my body. This warm, beautiful dancing girl, this strong woman with the beautiful cunt.
Our arms grasped at each other tightly and each other's cunt was pressed tightly into a face. Still we sucked and licked and breathed into each other.
Our bodies arched against bodies, blinded with passion, with lust and tingling with our own flesh, we went into our orgasms, became one mass of moving, livid flesh.
Kneading, pressing, sucking, flowing into each other, the demands of the flesh reaching their pitch, their kingdom.
We both went into a rage of lust and need and rolled over and over on the floor, trying to consume all of each other in one burst of orgasmic pleasure.
And when the contorted lust began to recede we continued to lick, cleaning and tasting, until finally we were both still, both wasted in the deluge of flesh that had preceded us.
I climbed up to lie between Carol's breasts and she sighed with pleasure and release. She caressed my hair for a while and then spoke.
"I suppose we should go home and get some sleep, it would be hard to explain being here in the morning."
"Come on home with me, Carol, I don't want to sleep alone."
Carol kissed my hair and agreed to come sleep with me.