by Jamie Knight
“Oh!” I moaned, filled with the most delicious pleasure.
Hugo teased me tenderly, before moving over to the other nipple, which he had been stimulating with his fingers. He applies same treatment to the moist one on the right, as he switched over to the left. Even this, just teasing my nipples, is almost enough to set me over the edge. Clearly he was a multi-talented man.
His hands on my sides, holding me still, Hugo moved down, getting ever closer to his final goal. On the way he stopped at my stomach, his wonderful tongue stimulating me in ways I’d never even thought possible. He brings me to previously unimagined realms of joy. Particularly for something so simple. I would never regard my belly the same way again.
Eventually, he made it to his destination, his chin brushing my belt as he kissed down toward my pelvis. I thought he might use his teeth. Not that I would have much minded, interested to see how such a thing might be done. Instead, he caressed both hands up my thighs, his gentle warmth detectable through the denim, and slowly, sensually, undid my belt. Followed closely by the top button of my jeans, working the zipper down inch by inch, releasing the scent of my excitement.
It was torturous, Hugo slowly, teasingly working my jeans down my legs until finally getting them off and away. I hadn’t worn panties either. My wet, young pussy was waiting for him as soon as he got my jeans off.
Taking pity on me, he did not prolong my suffering. He kissed his way up my inner thigh, the trip ending with a light lick across the length of my aching pussy. A feeling I’d had many times before but didn’t understand the cause. Or how easy and pleasurable the solution.
His talented tongue glided across my tender, virgin lips. Making all sorts of geometric shapes, only some of which I recognized but all of which felt amazing. Adding a practical use for geometry to his list of achievements.
As he licked, beginning to focus his attentions on my clit, he wet a finger and slipped it inside me. Just the tip at first. My tight pussy responding immediately. With gentle urging, particularly by his tongue, Hugo coaxed my pussy open. To where he could get a finger most of the way in. It was still a snug fit. Every movement perceptible as he moved in me but he was so tender, it only added to the already considerable pleasure.
I came in a burst. Like a dam falling and with much the same result. I’d expected more of a build-up, a preamble before the main event but I was eager to get there. For a moment, I thought I might pass out. Pure, dizzying pleasure almost more than my mind could hold. Sweet Hugo helped me keep my hold on reality. Lightly kissing my still tingling pussy. Easing me back down to earth from my halcyon high.
“Fuck,” I exhaled.
“Not yet, my darling,” he chuckled, licking his lips with a smug smirk, “But soon.
Rising to his feet, Hugo again towered over me. Not that that was difficult, I was only five-two in heels. A curse of my family line, even the men rarely breaking five-nine. Hugo was of different stock. Carrying his six-two frame with elegant grace.
I could see it. The outline anyway. Like in my fantasy. His magnificent manhood rebelling against the inside of his slacks, yearning to be free. Hands slightly shaking but my breath steady, I returned the favor he had done for me. Revealing his gorgeous form. His beautiful cock standing out at a right angle from his body. Softly pulsing.
Getting my hand most of the way around his shaft, I lay my ear to his chest. Listening to his heartbeat as I felt it thrum through me. Pressing his hands gently on my shoulders, Hugo guided me down onto my knees. My mouth hovered inches away from his truly massive member. I wasn’t entirely sure the whole thing would fit in my mouth. Though I was more than willing to try.
I felt everything. The bulk of his shaft caressing against the insides of my cheeks as I took him in. He had an amazing amount of length, and his cock was thick to boot. Even so, I did my best to get as much in as I could, short of choking myself. Knowing enough to know I probably wasn’t ready to deep-throat. At least not yet.
When I’d reached my limit, just over a third of his full length in my mouth, Hugo took over. Though I’d thought I was expected to try and suck him off, Hugo was more thoughtful than that. For my first blowjob, I didn’t have to do much. Mostly my task was to just keep sucking him gently as Hugo tenderly fucked my face, letting me get a sense of how deep and far I had to suck in order to get him off. Information I was pleased to have and looked forward to using the next time. For that moment however, he had other things on his mind.
Tilting back my head with his fist wrapped in my hair, Hugo started to cum. Delivering a full hot load of his thick, tasty seed into my eager little mouth. He watched as I swallowed down every last drop happily.
“Good girl,” he murmured, stroking my cheek as I swallow down his final load.
Putting his cock back into my mouth so I could suck it clean, Hugo then placed me back on the bed. This time on my back, near the edge, taking my ankles in both his hands. There was no doubt, or even remorse. Hugo was going to fuck me.
Small jolts of joy blasted up from my pussy. Hugo stroking his hard, warm head against it, getting me ready for entry. I was nervous but also elated. Whatever momentary pain might come, there was so much pleasure still to follow. The very potential made me giddy. Adrenaline and endorphins flying around my system like bingo balls.
My legs were up, which made sense in a way. I hadn’t given much thought to exactly how it would happen. I knew there were different positions, but the distinction was as lost to me as the numbers on a set of golf clubs. Hugo was a master, or so it seemed.
Confidently, he positioned me exactly how he wanted, my ass partially hanging over the edge of the bed, my legs supported on his elbows. Holding them up and open at the same time. Giving him full access to my pussy.
He could have just shoved it right in there. I couldn’t have stopped him, nor would I have wanted to in this moment. He didn’t, though. Maintaining the theme of the evening, he was kind, patient and ever so gentle. I couldn’t have chosen a better man to take my virginity than him.
With one last gentle stroke, Hugo eased into me. Getting the head of his cock into my pussy without incident. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. All at once, I knew what all the fuss had been about. Waves of pleasure rippled through me as he started to move. The head of his cock stroking against both my clit and, what I’d discovered to be my g-spot, at the same time. Getting a little further in with each thrust.
“Fuck,” I squeaked when the strain and stretch caused a flash of pain.
He backed off, not seeming to want to hurt me by going too fast. We rested for a moment. His beautiful cock pulsed deep in my pussy as I gathered my courage.
“Okay,” I finally said with a nod.
He moved forward again. Even slower than before. Seeming to angle his cock as he approached. Pressing right up against the bloom of my youth, an then through it. Finally and irrevocably making a woman out of me. The innocence of girlhood swept away for a new understanding.
The pain only lasted a few seconds. It was pretty bad, but still not the worst I’d ever felt. I also knew it was fleeting. It would fade, never to return. There was only one chance at a first time. Thank goodness for that.
Hugo stayed in me after. There was probably blood but I didn’t want to look. The pain was gone and I’d gone back to feeling good, savoring the feeling of his cock inside me as he filled me to the limit.
When I’d had time to recover, he started to move again. Giving me a good, proper fuck, granting me all the pleasure of a woman. It felt amazing. All of my senses filled with pure delight. I shouted out in Catalan. Something along the lines of ‘sweet fucking yes! Harder! Please!’ The thinking part of my brain had mostly shut down, along with my English-language knowledge. I was reacting on pure instinct.
Hugo fucked me harder. Building up to the point that he was absolutely pounding my pussy. Slamming his massive cock between my tender lips, both of us getting ever closer to the end.
The light returned and Hugo was kissing me. Nuzzling gently into my neck. I couldn’t feel my legs but they still moved when I tried. More to the point, Hugo’s cock was no longer inside me.
“D-did you c-cum?” I managed.
“Not yet, I was waiting for you. I didn’t know if you were on birth-control.”
“N-no.”
“I would imagine not. Being a virgin and all. I probably should have used a condom.”
I blushed, too flustered to have put it together myself. I knew it was reckless, but I hadn’t even thought about it. At least he could see the humor in the situation.
“You can take care of it now if you like.
“Yes, please,” I said it like a child asked if she would like more dessert. Hugo shifted so he was on his knees beside me, his cock inches from my face. Rolling onto my side, I did my best not to just swallow it.
With Hugo gently holding my hair, I used everything I’d learned from him face-fucking me, to give him the very best blowjob I could muster, enjoying the taste of myself on him, too. I must have done a decent job, considering it took him only about ten minutes to cum. Though part of that could be the fact he’d been waiting from my pussy for goodness knew how long. I really did want to try and make it up to him.
He filled my mouth with his sweet cum and I swallowed it all down. Continuing to suck him clean after I was finished. He had already been so kind to me. It really was the least I could do. I wasn’t sure what the most I could do was yet, but was pretty sure we would find out soon enough.
“Come on,” he said, lifting me from the bed.
Looping my arms around his neck, I lay my head to Hugo’s chest as he carried me into the bathroom. One of the larger of its type, it came complete with a full-sized bathtub that would easily fit us both.
Setting me on his lap on the edge, still hard cock pressing against my ass, Hugo turned on the water. I couldn’t help but marvel a little at his stamina.
“Was there, um –”
“No, not much, ” he said, catching on to what I was nervously hinting at, “There was a little bit of blood, but no more than I couldn’t handle with some tissues.
The water squeaked to a stop and, before I knew it, I was being lowered into the restored claw-foot tub, Hugo following close behind. Gentle as ever, he washed me all over. Toe to head and then back again, even washing my hair.
No mean feat, considering I’d let it grow down nearly to my waist. I usually kept it in a braid, or even a bun, like I had on the video-call. Yet, there it was, long and loose, my sweet lover shampooing and rinsing every inch with all care and attention.
The sex had been wonderful, amazing even. Though when it came to intimacy, washing my hair probably took the most trust. Sex happened all the time. Lots of times between strangers. I’d never let anyone wash my hair. At least since I was old enough to do it myself. A surrender I never thought I’d make. Yet there was something about Hugo that made me trust him innately. Something that let me know that he would never hurt me. Not just so I believed it as a conviction but knew it as an objective fact.
Egyptian cotton kissed my skin as Hugo patted me dry. He moved over me with a meticulous efficiency, leaving not a spot of moisture anywhere on me. Wrapping a second towel around my hair, he put us both into pure silk robes, Chinese dragons rampaging on the back.
Once again in his arms, I was carried back to the bed and tucked in under the heavy duvet. Keeping a hand on me at all times, Hugo went around to the other side and climbed in beside me, my body instinctively rolling toward him. He took me in a warm embrace and held me until I fell asleep.
Chapter Seven - Vega
It wasn’t what I expected. Though often, the part you don’t expect was the good stuff. I wasn’t sure what it spoke to more, but I really had expected the two weeks with Hugo to be a continuous sexual escapade.
My initial virginity in no way dampening my enthusiasm for the prospect. He seemed to know that. And what the likely result would be. My ravenous desire for sex leveling off, at least to more manageable levels. The final release of years of pent up frustration, as satisfying as it was edifying.
I was certainly up for more, but also understood the importance of interludes. For the sake of my health and comfort if nothing else. I’d only just started learning what could be done. Probably best to take it easy at first. Until my body had time to adjust to the new reality.
Pages rolled in a steady rhythm. Like the tide on the beach, slow and measured. The powerful, visceral sentences coming together to punch me in the heart. This manuscript was curb-stomping my feelings until I wanted to cry out in pain. But despite the agony the book put me through, I also couldn’t stop, an undeniable drive compelling me to continue, as though it would hurt more to stop.
It was all there. The poetry, the humor. The glorious, glorious historical references. Woven together into a tapestry worthy of the Vatican. Yet, struck through with an aching agony I could feel pressing in my chest as the narrative unwound. Each page, each paragraph bursting a new wealth-spring of tears I refused to let flow.
I stole a look at Hugo as he busied himself on his computer, waiting for my notes on the first few chapters. The book was broken into smaller sections to make the editing process easier. I wondered how much of it was true. It was difficult to imagine such authentic anguish coming out of nowhere.
There must have been something. An event, small or large, that gave him some insight. Most likely in the past five years, because his earlier writing had no such elements. I couldn’t see the cracks, but could sense something had broken. Most likely his heart.
“What do you think?
He might as well have asked how many licks to get to the center of a Tootsie-Pop. How the fuck was I supposed to answer that question? I couldn’t without the risk of hurting him even more.
“Luminous,” I hedged, going for the nicest descriptor to hand, “like your earlier work but also stands alone. There is a new - maturity.
I did my best not to make it sound like a question. There was maturity to be sure. As well as the stinging, lashing wages of hard experience. One came more readily to mind than the other. It took some quick thinking to come up with a compromise, ‘maturity’ not the first descriptor that came to mind.
“Thank you. I really wasn’t sure it was, you know, any good. I only started working on it again a couple years ago. Perhaps I’d lost my touch.
I wanted to reassure him. Quote what Harlan Ellison said about how writers get to a level below which they did not sink. It seemed inappropriate, considering all the new blood, metaphorical and apparently literal, that had gone into the new manuscript. If the foreshadowing was anything to go by. He would hate the comparison but Hugo really did have a mystery writer’s sense of structure. Nothing came out of nowhere. Each element present, sometimes very subtly, to the end. It was unlikely he’d have read Sherlock Holmes as a boy, but there was more than one French-language equivalent.
The beast grumbled, Hugo’s joining in chorus. Their urgency clear as it was undeniable. Hunger was becoming of paramount focus.
We had already eaten lunch, some kind soul leaving a tray outside the office door. Predicting we wouldn’t be making it to the dining room. I thought of the woman who’d taken me to him and wondered how much staff he still had that I hadn’t seen, especially for the actual vineyard. There were no grapes on the plants that I could see, alhough that could have been a seasonal thing, unless he specialized in ice wine. In which case things had gone very badly indeed.
Stuck in the void between lunchtime and dinner, which was always served at eight, we were left to our own devices.
“I’m not sure what to make but –
“I do.”
“Oh?”
“Show me to the pans and cutlery and then stand back,”
I told him confidently.
“…Right.”
Despite its size, the kitchen was easy to move in. Everything set up with perfect logic once you learned the system. The selection of food was fairly random, but I’d gotten used to improvising.
I’d never seen Grandma meet an ingredient she couldn’t work in somehow. Even ghost pepper on one memorable occasion. I wasn’t quite at her level of skill, lacking about fifty years of practice, but still did my best. Pulling together a serviceable fry up. “I wish you’ve let me help,” Hugo said, as I brought the plates to the table.
“You’d have been taking your life in your hands. I move fast, and often with sharp objects.”
“Even so,” he protested, “I like to feel useful.”
“Even at the risk of your life?” I challenged.
“Apparently, given recent history.”
Temptation burned. Threatening to slide the flesh from my bones. Yet, I remained silent. There were some things it was best not to probe. It would have been a reasonable question, had I asked it.
I just wanted Hugo to tell me in his own time, if at all. I had wondered at his mild nature. How it could cohabitate with such darkness as I’d already found in his pages. I didn’t want to upset that balance.
“Sit, dishes are my domain,” he ordered, gathering the cutlery on to the already stacked plates.
“Yes, sir.”
But as he walked from the room, a childish fear overtook me and I didn’t want to be in the dining room alone. I’d somehow developed an isolation anxiety, despite having no idea how.
Entering the kitchen as quietly as I could, I watched in silence as Hugo cleaned, dried and put away. The silverware was already drying on the tea towel set under the dish rack. I couldn’t help but observe how the muscles moved under his Oxford cloth shirt. So neatly tucked into charcoal gray Perry Ellis slacks.
He wasn’t really dressed up, but always managed to look incredibly good with what he wore. I would have to get him to teach me sometime.