CHAPTER IX
DISTANT MEMORY
Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find
yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of
your life.
Neruda
Tonight I can write the saddest lines
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Neruda
Is it human nature in general, or just my personal
torment to bury some painful memories so
deep inside that I hardly ever remember there were actually some horrid
experiences in my childhood to bury at all… that is until the night
comes. Nightmares are the cruel cataloger of those memories that are the heaviest
in one’s soul. Recent weeks’ stress over the safety of my family only increased
these nightmares. Memories I hadn’t remembered before, surfaced viciously last
night. Ana tried to help me, shake them out of me. How could they be erased
when they’ve left permanent creases in the fabric of my soul?
***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****
The ugly, dirty, stained green carpet and my tiny
old toy car is back again. Mommy is still on the couch. Still not moving. My
bare feet make small thumping noises as I walk to her. I put my blankie on her
but she is still very cold.
“Mommy?” I whisper. She does not blink. She does not
move. I lean to look at her eyes. They look back. But they don’t see me. Her
lips do not smile when I call her. We are alone. He is not here. Mommy always
smiles when he is not here. Mommy always holds me when he is not here. Mommy
always rubs my hair and kisses me when he is not here. I lift mommy's lips up to make her smile. They are cold. They are purple like Barney the dinosaur. I look at her eyes
again.
“Mommy? Can you see me?” Mommy says nothing. Mommy
does not speak. Maybe mommy is mad at Christian.
I blink at her. Maybe she forgot how to blink. She
does not blink.
I kiss mommy’s cheek. It is cold.
“Mommy, I’m hungry.” Mommy does not give me food.
Mommy sleeps with open eyes.
“Do you want to play with my car?” I offer her the
car. She does not look at my car. She does not say “Thank you Christian.” Mommy
stays silent. I hold it right in front of her eyes. No. She does look at it.
“Mommy?” I shake her shoulder. Her arm falls and her
hand makes a sound. Thump!
“Did you get hurt mommy?” I drop the car and sit on
the floor. I pick mommy’s hand up. Her hand is cold. Her hand is purple too.
Mommy is hurt. I hold her hand put the toy in. But she drops it. I pick it back
up.
“Mommy, talk to me!” I start crying. Mommy’s lips
don’t move. But she calls out to me. Over and over again.
“Christian! Christian!”
The front door creaks. Slams the wall. Stomp. Stomp.
Stomp. He walks in with big steps.
“What the fuck? Bitch did herself in!” His voice
booms. I cower. I want to protect mommy. He raises his big hand. Slap! I fly
off the couch. My car flies off my hand and hits the wall. I don’t say “my
car!” He turns my mommy over.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fucking bitch! Fuck this! Whatcha looking at twerp?”
He hits me with his big boots. My body rolls like my
car and my head hits the wall. My tears run down my face. Mommy said ‘don’t cry
when he hits you. It makes him mad.” But my tears come without asking me.
“Are you crying you little bastard? Are you? Fucking
little dope!”
“I’m sorry, mommy!” I disappointed mommy by crying.
“The bitch ain’t here! She dead!” He sneers.
“Fuck! It smells like death in this shit hole!
Fucking bitch made me lose lots of money! I coulda sold that pussy for another
ten years!” She yanks mommy off the sofa and kicks her!
“No! Mommy!” I have to protect mommy. She is cold.
She is sleeping. She is sleeping with open eyes. Mommy needs me. I run to her.
She’s on the floor. Her arms are twisted.
“Mommy!” I put my arms around her. “Don’t kick her,
please!”
“She dead! You stupid fucking piece of shit!” I see
his boot coming for me. I hold mommy tight. My whole body is tight. It hurts
less that way. His boot kicks me on my butt.
“I’m outta here!” He slams the door. It shakes the
apartment. I hug mommy tighter. Mommy is not warm. Mommy is cold. I want mommy
to hold me back. I want her to be warm. I want mommy to pat my hair. I want
mommy to speak. Cry. Mommy is silent.
“Wake up
mommy! Wake up!” I cry.
***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****
“Christian!
Christian! Christian! Baby!”
Then her voice change. Soft. Gentle. Sobbing. I’m
crying. Mommy’s voice is crying.
***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****
Silence… Then finally, “Christian…” calls the gentle
voice laced with love that could transform a dying man into a flourishing life.
“Mommy!”
I feel numb. Numbness is preferable to the
unbearable pain. It hides fear with a blanket. Hides my weakness too. My small
hands. Small arms. Mommy isn’t moving at all. Yet mommy is calling out to me
saving me.
***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****
Rapid breathing, semi darkness and I abruptly sit
up. A crying baby sounds like music to my ears. Is Teddy in the bed? I must
have scared him. Ana’s gentle hand is already in my hair, trying to soothe me.
“Just a bad dream,” I murmur trying to slow my pulse.
“Where’s Teddy?” I look around.
“He’s in his room sleeping, baby. I’m worried about
you,” she murmurs gently.
“I’m fine!” I brush it off.
“I thought I heard the baby cry,” I don’t want to
worry her.
“It wasn’t the baby, sweetie. It was you,” she murmurs gently. Then she takes my face into her
hands and kiss away the tears I didn’t know I had on my face.
Sarah McLachlan, “Possession”
Ana’s tears and mine mix as she kisses me more.
“Are you nervous about tomorrow’s trip?”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” I resist to
her coaxing.
I’m still under the nightmare’s influence. I’ve
had a thousand different versions of that dream. And the result is the same:
she dies in the end. The crack whore… the woman who sold her body for money to
support her crack habit. The woman who gave birth to me… My biological mother.
The flawed, scared, abused, degraded, forgotten, lonely young woman who had no
one in the world, but me… Unloved, uncared for by everyone, except for the little
bastard, equally unloved and unworthy Christian… The woman who once was my mom. God! My mom is dead!
“It’s
been two weeks since you’ve been having the same nightmare over and over again.
Please, Christian, tell me at least this one. This dream. Talk to me. Air out
what you’re not telling me. Don’t conceal your nightmares from me, husband.
Shed light in there so it never comes back again. Please Christian, just let me
in,” she begs me. How can I resist her pleas? Yet, how can I let her experience
that horror that was my childhood? Just the idea that I experienced it is hard
enough for her.
“Just
make love to me, hold me and I’ll forget it,” I kiss her neck. I need this
contact. I need it more than the air I breathe. I need to feel her. I need feel
I exist.
“Christian,
please! Talk to me. Don’t shut me out. You promised last night! If you dream it
again, you’d tell me! I can’t fix it. But if you set her free, this nightmare
will never bother you again. Set Ella free out of your mind.”
“Ana,
let me chase the nightmare away by making love to you. I need to fuck you.
Now!” I need to get out of the influence of the dream. I’ll feel like myself
once I fuck my wife.
“I’ll
make a deal with you. You can fuck me any way you like and even spank me, hard…”
she says in her what I now come to know as her sweet, delicate, enticing
negotiation voice. No one can resist it, not even me.
“You’re
my wife! I can already fuck you any way I like,” I narrow my eyebrows.
“Well,
there was that one thing you have been avoiding even though I know you
absolutely love doing it…”
I’m
full attention now. Does she have any idea how much power she’s wielding over
me? How immensely overwhelming her entire body is to me? My woman is a
dangerous weapon, all she has to do is to look at me sideways and I’m under her
spell.
Black
Magic Woman – Santana
“Tonight.
No raincheck!” I warn.
“You
can use the riding crop, a ruler, flogger and your hands, but no whip, or
tawse.”
“Are
you negotiating with me, Mrs. Grey?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Yes,
Sir, I am,” she whisper giving me a
sly smile.
“I
wouldn’t use those on you, Ana. You know that, don’t you? I’d never hurt you
that way. Anything I would use on you is for both of our pleasures,” I reassure
her.
“I
know that Christian. I trust you. I always trust you. Besides, I enjoy it just
as much,” she murmurs. “My husband,” she kisses me. Fuck! My cock is now
forming a tent in my boxers. Always, huh? Jesus Christ! My woman melts my
heart.
“Tonight.
Right after you let me in your mind, after we banish that nightmare that’s been
taking my husband’s nights hostage, you can have me. Any. Way. You. Like. Just as soon as you let me chase it all away.”
I smile. My little brave woman. Always out to protect me in her own way. My
lioness. I shake my head sighing.
“Alright.
You win. I have a bedtime story that will end all bedtime stories. Are you sure
you don’t want to make love first? I really don’t want you to associate our
love making with a terrible nightmare.”
“I’ll
be making love to my husband. Not to the nightmare. I want to make sure that
it’s gone forever. So, speak away husband of mine,” she orders.
“Bossy
little thing, aren’t you?”
“Learned
from the best. Don’t delay it, Sir.”
She emphasizes to remind me what’s coming. She gets off my lap, sits up,
patting her leg, she lays my head on her lap. Lacing her fingers in my hair,
she motions me to start talking.
“It
begins in the same place as always. That dirty room, with that nasty green
carpet. Dishes in the sink. Nothing in the fridge. Green, moldy crusts of some
crap on the dirty plates. Dirty glass. Sink water. And one fucking open bag of
frozen peas.” I pause getting lost in that nasty small apartment. The place
that held some of the worst memories I’ve had that tormented me for years.
“Tell
me about the little Christian in your dream,” she coaxes caressing my hair, leaning
down and kissing the top of my head. I take a deep breath.
“Think
of a little boy who is smaller than what he should be. So small that the long
sleeve shirt I ought to be in is three sizes too big.”
“Oh,
maybe your mom wanted you to grow into it,” she comments. “Maybe she couldn’t
afford buying it often. You know how fast the kids grow.”
“Yes,
I do. But, she didn’t buy it new. Probably some third hand crap from one of the
charities. Besides, considering the sweater had more holes than the Swiss
cheese, there was no way she bought it for me to grow into it. I’m absolutely
sure that she couldn’t afford anything that was decent even on sale,” I say
shrugging. I remember it well because I could stick my little car through some
of the holes.
“Then
the shoes… I could wiggle out my big toe on one of them, small toe out of the
other one. I think I could see the grief in her eyes in her moments of
clarity.”
“Why
didn’t she…” she probes without finishing her question. We have formed an
understanding that I already knew what she’s asking.
“Because
she had to support her drug habit. The only way she made money was by selling
her body and what little she could keep from the pimp, she probably was buying
crack, or the pimp was supplying it to keep her hooked to the job.” I look at
my wife. I don’t want to have her pity, or see sorrow on her face. It’d break
me. She just nods, smiling reassuringly. I narrow my eyes.
“Go
on husband, we have a deal!” she chides.
“In
one of these dreams, she’s giving me a bath. It must have been real, because the
dream is so vivid. Ella… my mom,” I qualify, “takes me to give me a bath. She
sees the hand marks, unhealed bruises. My face, neck…” my hand automatically
goes to my face. Ana’s hand reach on top of mine and she caresses the wounds of
the lost child inside me.
“I
remember her kissing each and every one of these bruises and crying. I told her
not to cry and kissed her cheeks.” It comes back to me suddenly, unexpectedly.
I sit up.
“Christian?”
Ana sounds worried.
I
close my eyes and shake my head.
“I
told her, ‘don’t worry mom. I’ll protect you.’ She cried and said, ‘no, it’s my job to protect you, baby. I’m so
sorry Christian. I failed you’. Ana, can’t you see? She loved me! My mom loved
me!” I say with clarity.
“Of
course, she did, Christian! She was just
a victim of her circumstances. How could any mom give birth to you and not love
you? No more than I could say that for my own son.” She smiles with quivering
lips.
“Oh
fuck!”
“What?”
her voice is worried.
“I
know why I have been having these dreams.” I’m quite certain now.
“Because
you’ll visit her grave tomorrow.”
“I’m
sure that’s part of it, but my mind is playing a thousand different scenarios in
which where she comes out alive. The child that I was is still looking for a
way, a circumstance, a scene where his mother comes out alive. I’m still trying
to save her! To protect her! Jesus! I failed her!”
“You.
Failed. No one. Not Ella, not the little boy that you were. Do you hear me? No
one. It’s the parents’ job to save the child. Not a four year old toddler who
couldn’t even reach the sink to get a drink of water let alone save his mom
from problems she couldn’t even save herself. It’s no more fair to ask that of
you than if you were to ask it of Teddy.”
I
smile at that.
“You’re
giving Dr. Flynn a run for his money.”
She
laughs out loud.
“I’ve
a long way to go to get to Flynn’s level. For one thing, I’m not an expensive
shrink.”
“No,
ma’am, you’re not! But you are priceless for me.” I pull her head down for a
kiss. “Besides, I don’t want to kiss Flynn.”
“I
hope not! He’s not your type.”
“Really?”
I tease. “What do you think is my type?”
“Your
type iiiis….” She drawls, “dark hair,
blue eyes, sassy, sex loving occasional submissive who typically answers to the
name of Mrs. Anastasia Grey and is crazy about you.”
I
sit up. I’m ready to collect what she promised me.
“Are
you ready to pay up, Mrs. Grey?” I ask. She pushes me back down on the bed with
the tips of her fingers.
“Not
so fast, Mr. Grey! You’re not done with the dream.”
“Maybe
not, but I want you right now.”
“No,
Sir! That wasn’t the deal. Tell me the whoooole
thing,” she says with a smile.
“Only
for you Mrs. Grey,” I sigh and tell her the nightmare in its entirety and all
of its gruesome details. She listens attentively, continuing to rub my hair,
soothing me like a cold glass of water in the hot desert. Even though her face
smiles at me, I can see the cogwheels turning in her head. What is she
thinking? More importantly, what is she planning? When my story comes to an end,
she pauses.
“I
wish I could take away the pain of your childhood, get you right here without
any of those abuses. I wish Ella had no fear to show her love for you. If that
wasn’t possible, I wish you were directly born into Grace and Carrick’s home. I
wish you had their love all your life. I wish you were happy, devoid of any
problem, innocent of all the bad that went on out in the world.” She tells says
emphatically.
“I
wish all of that with the pain of knowing that if you experienced none of those
things, you wouldn’t be Christian I know, or you wouldn’t be here with me. You
probably would have never discovered the kinky side of yourself because you
wouldn’t have the problems that led you to seek out some sort of release. As
much as I am angry with Elena for what she did to you, as much I hate her, yes,
hate her for taking advantage of a fifteen year old boy, in her twisted way,
she gave you an outlet. I like the kinky Christian. I love gentle Christian. I
love it when you’re possessive, but I also love it when you give me room to
breathe. I love it when you hold our son and look at him in such love and
adoration, I’m in love with you all over again.
But
if you’ve never been born to Ella, or if she was a good, proper mom to you with
an ordinary life, you would have never met Grace. You would have never been
adopted and we would have never met. You would not have the driving pain to
conquer the world to fill the void inside you and I would have never come to
interview you. I wish those nightmares never bothered you. If I could, I would
take them away. Give you a peaceful sleep, knowing that I wouldn’t be here to
say this to you.”
Her
words immediately jolt me like a million watts. The idea that she could never
be a part of my life because I’d be ignorant of her existence, or that my son
would never be born pains me more than any part of my past or all of it
collectively.
“How
could any sleep be peaceful if I didn’t have you in my life? If I’ve never
experienced the immense happiness when I married you, or when I fucked you for
the first time. Or the relief I felt when Teddy was born. How could I give any
of it up? If I am to find this Rose,”
referring to her middle name, I pause and I caress her cheek, “among the thorns
that is my past, I’m willing to harrow hell for you every night.”
Yes,
cheesy, I know, but even the idea of never knowing Ana, not touching her, or
not being able to talk to her steals my breath.
“Christian,
there’s no hell for you from now on. Your nightmares are only the traces that
you had experienced those things. You’re immensely strong and powerful
physically, financially and politically; not to mention you’re strong in
family. You have me and Teddy… You’re our whole world. You have Grace, Carrick,
your brother and sister. You have a whole family who just adores you, loves you
unconditionally. You are alone no longer.” Damn woman! You can melt my heart
and jump my cock all at the same time.
“Anastasia
Grey,” I say pulling her to me. “I love you. I can’t imagine an existence
without you. You’re my wife and I just want to make love to you right now.”
She
looks surprised.
“You’ve
held up your end of the bargain. I’m completely turned on. I want you to get
what you rightfully earned,” she says.
“I’ll
raincheck it. I don’t need just fucking and spanking right now. I need the ultimate
intimacy. Deep, loving, permeating intimacy. I want to be inside your body, and
you inside my mind with no room for anything else.”
The
smile she flashes makes my heart stop. It is both innocent and incredibly
seductive.
“Yes,
Sir,” she responds eagerly. Jesus
Christ! I burn for this woman.
“Let’s
get you completely naked, woman! At the end of the night, I want you to invade
my every dream. You’ve already conquered every one of my thoughts…” I murmur. I
toss her tank top aside.
“Christian!
When you talk like that how can I not give you everything of me willingly and
completely? I’m yours, body and soul. Irrevocably,” she says passionately, as I
inch my way to her grasping her waist and quickly removing her top.
I
push her down onto the bed and slowly and leisurely remove her panties. I grasp
her leg and pull her down towards me. I kiss and gently bite her instep and
suck her big toe eliciting a licentious groan. Then with a trail of kisses, I
reach behind her knee and lick and suck the sensitive spot. Gentle bites, licks
and kisses take me up to her thigh and her apex. I don’t touch her sex just
yet.
Ana’s
mouth cracks open with a moan. That’s when I abandon her nipple and quickly
take her soft lips. She reciprocates with intense ferocity. Her tongue brushes
my lips’ seam and I return her ministrations. She easily accepts the thrusts of
my tongue into her mouth. She whimpers, her body shudders with a passionate
frenzy right under me which completely unravels me. My wife just fires up when
I touch her. My tongue caresses her with deep, lush licks.
I
push her legs apart with my knees and cage her body beneath me onto the bed.
God! I want to straddle her right now and just enter her.
She
thrusts her hips and her sex meets with my boxers. She groans her protests.
“Please…”
is the only whimper escapes her lips which just gets swallowed by my kisses.
“Slow,
baby,” I warn her. But she’ll have none of it.
She
bucks me to push my hand into fucking her hard, to get her release right away. But
I want it reaffirming, slow, and tender. My wife has other ideas.
“Ana!”
I warn her. She wiggles more.
“I
want hard and fast!” she complains.
“Woman,
don’t force me tie you up!”
“Hard
and fast!” she counters, demanding.
My
weight leaves her immediately. I check the dresser drawer for some restraints
and find exactly what I’m looking for.
“You
want hard and fast? Fine! I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk
tomorrow! But I’ll do it in my terms!” She only gives me back a lascivious
smile in response.
I
climb back on the back and climb on top of Ana without touching her body.
Bringing her hands together, I tie them with a silk scarf then flip her over and
raise her ass in the air then slap her delectable derriere with a sharp sting.
She yelps but I quickly layer several more well placed spankings on her
buttocks with each one stinging my hand and turning her buttocks pink.
“Christian!”
she shouts.
“You
asked for it!” I counter.
“Okay!
Fine! You win! Gentle!” Both Ana and I are breathless, but suddenly I feel alive.
I feel in my element. I feel in control. Ana’s behind is glowing, her sex is
glistening wet and she opens her legs in an inviting manner. I slide two
fingers between the folds of her sex. She is soaking wet!
“Wet,
warm, soft. Simply perfect!” Ana moans in fever pitch anticipation. I rub my
hand over her buttocks. The heat transfers into my hand, her skin prickles and our
emotions melt and meld into each other. Every time I touch her, I get lost; I’m
set on fire, just the feel of air provides some relief on my burning skin, but
nothing but being inside her satiates the burning of my soul. I need her, want
her, helplessly in love with her. But more importantly, how did I ever survive
without her?
I
take my fingers off her sex and taste it. Mmmm. My wife is amazingly sweet. I
turn her back over and pull her to me. Lifting her into up, I take her into my
arms.
“I
want you to taste yourself on my lips.” She wraps her tied wrists around my
neck and offers her lips to me. When we surface to breath after several
minutes, I say, “Now, I want my demanding seductress to be tied up on that
chair,” I point with my head, “to satisfy my needs.”
“What
about my needs?”
“In
satisfying mine, I will make sure that my wife gets fortuitous, mind-blowing,
sheet clawing rewards.” She chews her bottom lip to entice me. Baby, you just
didn’t do that!
I
take Ana to the seventeenth century antique French rococo chair with
intricately carved walnut arms I purchased for her when we were in Paris. I
never fucked her on it before.
I
place two thin pillows on the wooden arms and lift Ana’s legs over them.
“What
to do with your arms?” I murmur. After untying them apart, I tie each one to
each leg with silk scarves. Ana is panting already. The damp lips of her sex
are gloriously exposed to me. I drop my boxer shorts and my cock springs in
relief. Ana’s gaze goes straight to it and her body trembles in anticipation. I
run two fingertips through those lips and she helplessly arches into my caress.
“Oh
God!” she moans as my fingers barely enter into her.
“I
want to fuck you as I wish. Taste you, touch you everywhere and lose myself in
you with my mouth, hands, cock and when I’m through with you, wife, we’ll both
be completely spent and sated.”
I
then pull another silk scarf and show it to her.
“But
you won’t see me doing it. I just want you to feel me. Feel my presence in
every way possible,” I warn her. She shakes her head in acquiescence, and
anticipation. I need to dominate her tonight. I love her challenging me; it
makes it doubly exciting for both of us. I tie the scarf around her eyes.
“Do
you trust me, wife?”
“Always,”
she whispers.
I
go down on my knees and grasp her hips then lower my head to the apex of her
thighs. Her chest heaves up with the first contact. I inhale her scent and trail kisses, nips and
licks along her thighs. I only brush against her sex, but I don’t touch it. She
tries to gyrate her hip against my head but I hold her firmly in place. I lick
her belly and make my way up her torso. When I capture her left breast, I find
her nipples hard and erect. I suck and lathe her nipples than take a mouthful
of her breast. She’s unable to move but I can feel her trying to thrust herself
forward. Sharp pangs of sensation radiate through both of us. I tweak her other
nipple with my forefinger and thumb while sucking the other breast. I know her
sex is contracting with need right now. Because I feel the sweet taste of
breast milk in my mouth already. I switch to her other breast while holding the
one I’ve just abandoned with my hands and smearing the milk around it. My cock
is painfully aching right now to enter her.
She
is writhing in the chair.
“Christian
please! Please, fuck me!” Christ! She’s tied up in the chair, yet I’m the one
who is helpless and at her mercy.
“Not
yet, beautiful!” I murmur. “Take me in your mouth first.”
She
licks her lips right before I rest the head of my cock over her wet lips.
“I’m
only going to move slowly, baby,” I tell her. Ana licks the tip of my cock,
then slowly sucks it. Her tongue is constantly lathing, and her head moving,
trying to take more of me in. Jesus Christ! She can unman me with just this.
Her mouth is heaven. My eyes roll behind as the sensation grips my entire body.
She hollows her cheeks and tries to pull my cock in with soft suctions. I want
to stay in that warmth, and pleasure. Her mouth simply renders me speechless.
My breathing increases as her tongue swirls around my tip.
“Enough,
baby, enough!” I manage to say and pull my cock out of her mouth. She licks her
lips again, pleased with herself. I need to concentrate to delay my release. I
lean down and this time really lip her sex. Her hot, wet sex is like silk. It
just feels so perfect. I slide my tongue between her folds then suck her clit
until she reaches her peak. But I don’t want her to come yet, I slow down and
then probe inside her with my tongue. I feel the tightening of her sex around
my tongue. I know she is ripe enough. I push the chair and tilt it, resting the
head on the wall to give myself enough leverage. I stand back then pull her
hips forward in her seat and after spreading my legs apart for the perfect
angle, I enter into her. Her sex embraces my cock like a tight velvet glove,
warm, wet, and perfect.
I
hold in place for a few seconds. Feel her. My balls draw up in anticipation. I
pull back a little, then holding her hip up at the angle I need, I thrust to
the hilt. It’s hard and fast afterwards. I’m desperate to bring us to our peak.
I fuck hard but I want us to experience it as long as possible. Ana tries to
match my rhythm.
“Oh!
Christ…” Ana shouts unable to complete my name, almost pained, which
immediately concerns me.
“Ana!
Are you hurt?” I slow down, ready to stop.
“Don’t
you dare to slow down! Harder!”
“Yes,
ma’am!” I grin, and thrust deeper, holding her buttocks in full control of my
drive. She elevates her buttocks a
little higher to get me in as deep as possible. My strokes are relentless,
stretching her, rubbing her in the deepest corners of her sex.
“Perfect!
This is perfect!” she moans. Our love and lust becomes a single entity, taking
us to a different plane, binding us, connecting, and bringing us to our peak.
I
pull her blindfold down.
“Watch
me fuck you, see the power you have on me,” I groan with each thrust.
When
the pulsing starts, I am already so close to my peak but I do my best to hold
on just a little longer, biting my lip, exerting pain on myself. I need to feel
her like this a few minutes more. I pound into her feverishly, jackhammering.
She screams her release with my name like a litany.
I
am in heaven. My release follows hers. When I push my last thrust into her sex,
I squirt into her my hot, and creamy release. Ana’s eyes are clouded with the
spread of her climax, her body hot, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her
breathing hard. I reluctantly withdraw my cock out of her very slowly. Making
sure she knows that it pains me to be disconnected from her.
I
know the position must have ached her arms and legs, and her sex is sore. But
she’s thoroughly and most satisfactorily fucked and loved. I immediately untie
her arms and release her legs from the chair.
“Now,
I get to clean my wife,” I say as I hold her and take her to the bathroom in my
arms. This time, I worship her slowly, and leisurely in the shower, showing her
all the ways I love her.
Jace Everett - Angel Loves the Devil Outta me
Anyone who is observant, who discovers the person they
have always dreamed of, knows that sexual energy comes into play before sex
even takes place. The greatest pleasure isn't sex, but the passion with which
it is practiced. When the passion is intense, then sex joins in to complete the
dance.
Coelho
