“I’m, I’m…oh for God’s sake don’t let me come until I’ve fucked you,” he begged.
I paused and he used the opportunity to pull me up and twist me around, throwing me face first over the edge of the bed. He was frantic, his hand guiding his rock hard cock to my already wet pussy. He went deep and started thrusting hard, his wild pumps repeatedly hitting the G spot, as his hand sought my clit and pressed hard.
But within a minute, the sex was all too familiar. “Stop!’ I called out, and when he didn’t listen, I pulled myself higher on the bed. His slick dick started sliding south and he finally paused, confused.
“What’s wrong?” He couldn’t hear my muffled answer, as I was face down in the quilt, and too embarrassed to say it any other way. But Jake wouldn’t be deterred. He turned me over and said, “What?”
I took a deep breath and said, “I want you to fuck me up the ass.”
His efforts to suppress his grin failed. “Keeping up with the Joneses, are we?” But he was in. He reached over my back and opened the top drawer of his dresser, fumbling around before coming up with a tube of KY Jelly. He rubbed it on his cock, and then in the crease of my ass. The jelly was impossibly cold, despite the sweltering heat of the room. It worked like a cold shower on my kinky thoughts. What are you doing? What are you doing? You don’t want this…
Jake pressed his cock against my ass, teasing the hole with just the tip, rubbing it. “You sure?” he asked gently.
No. My ass had absolutely no craving to be fucked and no amount of teasing was going to make it so. But my imagination wanted what my ass didn’t. And I said, “Do it.”
He worked his way slowly, and he had to. Even as the tip of his cock made it inside, a hot, searing pain shot deep inside me and I cried out, tears forming in my eyes, sweat flowering all over my skin in tiny pearl-like droplets.
Jake pulled out and leaned over me. “It’s okay if you don’t want to do this.”
I hesitated. The pain, still smarting around the ring, told me I would derive no pleasure whatsoever from this act. I could give up, and we could go back to the familiar sex we knew and loved. But I didn’t want to.
From the moment I got the message I was going to be published, something in me crossed over. I could feel the brittle repression, self-doubt, and self-loathing crack and splinter inside me. The slightest shift in those seemingly impenetrable feelings was like awakening from Medusa’s stone spell: I was still inside the statue, but I was now awake. And sensing freedom, I was in a hurry to smash the rest of the mold. I had no idea who the person who emerged would be, but I was nevertheless in a hurry to be rid of the sheer weight of my past. I wanted to be free of all constraints, open to everything in the most literal sense. Even if I derived nothing but scorching pain, I wanted this.
“I’d hate to think I can’t physically do it,” I admitted. “Keep going.”
Jake rubbed at my ass, and gently urged, “Relax.” As the musculature remained tight, he brushed his fingers gently over my clit, again and again with feathery lightness, a sensation I adored. Once I was wet again, he massaged my butt, kneading slowly but firmly, intermittently tracing the crease with a light, lone finger. I relaxed into it. When he lifted his hands away, I hiked my butt higher, signaling for more attention. Jake slathered his fingers with lubricant and returned, patiently working one, then two fingers into the hole, touching the inner walls with gentle, probing pressures, his other hand brushing my clit.
He didn’t say anything as his fingers withdrew; he merely replaced them with his cock. I felt the thickness of him probing. The pain began anew as he pushed the tip inside. Frustration welled in me again. I still had no sexual urge to accomplish this act, but the mental urge was overwhelming. Tears once again formed in my eyes, and Jake was about to stop when I commanded, “Just get yourself all the way in. Hurry.”
“You sure?” He asked dubiously. With my nod, he pushed deep with a single thrust.
I screamed ferociously. His cock felt like a red hot poker burning me from the inside out.
When my scream died away, neither of moved, or said anything, for at least another minute. His dick stayed where it was, a hot knife, but as still as the rest of him. My fingers clawed at the bedcovers, trying to absorb the shock, but I didn’t dare shift any other part of myself, out of fear of renewing the mind-splitting pain.
Slowly, I felt the blood begin to flow around my injury, warming my ass to his presence. He once again brushed his hand against my clit.
“You all right there?” He asked.
I nodded, and he made the tiniest little thrust of his pelvis, testing me for elasticity. A ripple shot through the core of me, raw and visceral, before fracturing and emanating through every inch of my being from head to toe.
“What was that?” I gasped.
“What, this?” He made another tiny thrust. The cry that emerged out of my throat surprised us both. My pussy opened and closed in reaction, as if it was trying to reach out and reclaim his dick.
The sensation was entirely new, and distinctly pleasurable, achieved only for a fraction of a second each time the tip of his dick hit the wall. He thrust again, this time a little harder. “YES THAT!” I screamed and turned to look at him in shock.
Jake grinned. “Must be hitting the back wall of your G spot. Keep looking at me.” He thrust again and my face contorted with a mixture of searing pain and intense pleasure.
I gasped incredulously, “You’re fucking me up the ass.”
“Yes,” he answered simply.
“And I’m…” I could barely get out the unimaginable words. “…Liking it.”
“You are?” He kissed my back before giving another little thrust. The target hit once again, and I orgasmed, my juices falling quickly and abruptly onto the bed.
“Maddie?” Jake asked, utterly shocked. He’d never made me orgasm so instantly.
I shook my head, as mystified as he was. All I could say was, “Oh my God, please go harder. Make it hurt.”
Despite my request, he took his time, knowing the pain of each increasing thrust was enough to jolt me into another reality. I orgasmed again and he paused, a thought occurring to him. He rotated his hips slowly, his dick moving like a magic wand. My vision narrowed and grew with each rotation. I was so slick with sweat and desire I wondered if I was about to pass out.
Jake, hearing no protests, finally he let go, his own urgent need surpassing his patience with my anal virginity. He thrust hard and deep, repeatedly, while I swung back and forth between the shock of the slicing pain and the intense pleasure of the moments when his cock tickled the back wall of my G spot with its’ kisses. I orgasmed a third time, certain I could be heard by the neighbors and utterly uncaring if I was. I was lost.
Jake shuddered and came, filling my ass with yet another new sensation of incredible pleasure. I could actually feel the force of his cum flooding me, in a way I couldn’t in my pussy. The lubricant filled me and worked like a salve on the rawness I otherwise felt. I groaned with Jake and we both collapsed on the bed in an utter flop sweat. Jake practically slithered off my back, both of us giggling at the slick mess.
“Wow,” was all he finally managed to say. “How do you feel?”
I’d never achieved such heights of ecstasy in my life. “Absolutely liberated,” I finally admitted.
“How do you mean?”
“I’m not sure exactly.” But I did. Anal sex was crossing a sexual line for me. Until now, I’d wrestled with my Catholic school girl repression – stuck to what was known, and universally enjoyed – and outwardly scoffed at the need for kinkiness. Why would anyone need anything kinky, if they could achieve orgasm the traditional (read safe and acceptable) way? But the truth was, while I hadn’t craved anal sex, I had craved something new and different, and felt secretly unfulfilled. I imagined everyone else was getting something out of sex that I wasn’t, and that was probably because they were.
My ass throbbed, but my brain conjured the memory of t
he orgasmic pleasure. I touched my breasts, stroking myself as fantasies flooded my head. The fantasies were loud, arguing with one another, disputing which one would get to talk first, but their excitement was palpable.
Jake interrupted my thoughts. “What made you ask that tonight? Kendra?”
“Yes and no. I mean, only in the sense I felt the dare. She definitely gave me the idea. But wanting it was something else. I think it was the news I’m getting published.” I turned and met his hazel eyes. “That’s right. I’m getting published.”
“Yes, you are.” He kissed me, slowly and tenderly, before asking again, “I still don’t get it. What was the link?”
I thought before answering. “Well, writing is about imagination. And getting published is validation of your imagination. So if the fantasies that I use in my writing are so good, why shouldn’t my sexual fantasies be just as valid?”
He nodded. I knew he understood. He’d known all along that I was holding back, sexually. Now the dam was broken, and the waters of my fantasies were about to run free.
A pounding crash in the distance interrupted our musings. Jake sat up, his voice incredulous. “Was that thunder?”
We listened again eagerly, as the first drops of rain splattered against the window pane.
“It is!” I answered him joyously, as splatter on the rooftop became the thrum of a downpour.
He stood, glancing at his sweat-soaked body. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going out there.” He lifted his shirt from the floor and started putting it on, only to remember I’d ripped off the buttons. He yanked it off and pulled open a drawer in the dresser, only to slam it shut again. “You know what, fuck it.” He headed for the door of the bedroom before turning back to me on the bed. “Well, Miss-Author-With-The-Big-Imagination, when’s the last time you walked out naked in a thunderstorm?”
My eyes boggled at the dare. It was late and it was dark, but every neighbor we had could see into our backyard from multiple windows. I swung my legs to the floor. “Never. I’ve never done that. So I think it’s time, don’t you?”
We headed down the hallway, giggling like school kids, we but both hesitated for a moment at the back door. The rain was so heavy it created a scrim-like effect between us and the world outside. It was time to open that curtain.
Jake took my hand and looked me in the eyes. “We’ll do it together. Ready?”
“Yeah.” And we ran out, squealing as the rain washed over every inch of us, rinsing us clean of hesitation. Every droplet worked like a tiny little finger, massaging away my fear, replenishing me with excitement for what was to come.
“To you!” Jake held up his wine glass.
Bill, Kendra, Denise and Teddy raised their glasses as well. “To Madison!”
I blushed and muttered “thank you,” before raising my own and taking a sip. The sauvignon blanc was tantalizingly cool and uncomplicated, in stark contrast to the warm, heady and sensuous spices of the food. I dipped the naan bread in spicy corn palau and tucked it my mouth. My taste buds went moist, only to tingle with electric sting of the tumeric.
“Oh my God,” I groaned, turning to Jake. I dipped another piece of naan and held it out to him. “You’ve got to try this.” He raised a hand to take the bread from me, but I pulled away. “Uh-uh. From me.”
“Maddie,” He groaned, but he closed his eyes and opened his mouth. I placed it on his wet and waiting tongue and watched his lips close around it. I planted a kiss on his lips just as his eyes widened in surprise.
“Holy shit that’s hot!” Jake grabbed for the nearest water and drank before innocently asking, “Was that mine?”
I smiled. “Is now.”
“Sorry.” He kissed me again.
“You two save that for later!” Kendra shrilly commanded. “You’re like a couple of teenagers since the book sold.”
“I never got this lucky as a teenager,” Jake refuted and smiled at me. Under the table, I felt his hand snake up my thigh, as if in protest.
Kendra couldn’t see Jake’s hand, but his smile was enough. “Oh, it’s like THAT is it?” She leered. She was always a little too interested in Jake, but this time I detected a hint of jealousy. Bill shot her a warning look and not-so-subtly pushed her wine glass a little farther away from her.
Denise sensed our combustive friends were about to argue and interrupted. “So tell us about the book! When does it come out?” Teddy and Kendra joined in, wanting all the particulars.
“Supposed to be next summer…” I started filling them in on details, but underneath the table, Jake’s hand was still warm on my thigh and the fantasies I’d given birth to a week ago filled my head again. We’d had anal sex every night for a week at my demand. Jake had tried to refuse, insisting my body needed to recover. And he was right, but every time he started fucking me vaginally, my ass pulsed with fresh wanting – a second hole that had to be filled.
Repression is a strange beast, I’d decided. An absolutely Costco-sized can of worms. Anal sex wasn’t going to be the end of my adventuring. I wanted to experiment with everything. And I suddenly wanted to do it right now.
I felt secure in the knowledge we had a corner table, our backs to the shuttered window. And I had the chair next to the wall. Admittedly, we were on a slight platform – a single, six inch step above the main dining room. There was only one table that had an unobstructed view of me, the one directly below and in front of us, and it was currently empty. Feeling safe in my nook, I was curious to see whether Jake was tuned into my thinking. I parted my legs the tiniest bit and waited.
I felt his fingers separate, the pinky brushing against my short, tight, summer skirt, right at pubic level. The slightest smile came to my face and I opened my legs a little wider to encourage him, as I continued rambling about the slated three rounds of edits. I felt his fingers lift and land again around my knees. He teased them slowly upward, closing in on the hem of my skirt, raking his fingers slowly and lightly across my flesh. As ticklish as I am, I’m sure my eyebrows lifted in surprised expressions unrelated to the conversation.
His fingers hooked on my skirt and hiked – one side, then the other -- until I felt the air-conditioned cold and smoothness of the chair on my bare ass. Suddenly, his hand tapped the side of my leg, insisting they go wider. I hesitated. This was suddenly getting more public than I’d ever envisioned. But I’d started something, and Jake wasn’t going to be fobbed off. I felt his hand suddenly force my legs wider and I obeyed, leaving them that way. My reward was his ring finger gently tracing the silky fabric of my panties over my clit. I was already damp from the illicit act.
“So, when do you, like, get paid?” Teddy asked.
I gasped and finally said, “Sorry. Spicy.” I reached for the water and took a long drink, and noticed that a couple – a silver-haired guy in his late forties, and a woman approximately my age -- were being seated at the empty table below.
Knowing we potentially had an audience, I froze, as I felt Jake’s finger push my panties aside. The ring finger landed directly on my clit and pressed hard. I coughed the water back out into the glass.
Our friends looked at me in confusion – even Jake. Goddamn he was a master at covering. He feigned concern with a perfectly masked, “You sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine. Just went down the wrong way,” I apologized, then turned a laser focus on my husband. “Jake, maybe you’d like to fill them on the rest? Give me a minute to eat?”
He shrugged and said “Sure,” as under the table I abruptly clamped my legs together, pinning his finger in place.
“Basically, while the contract is getting negotiated, Madison’s supposed to start work on the first rewrite. She gets paid in two increments…” He rambled on while his finger silently answered my challenge by plunging its way inside me. My eyes widened, I’m sure, and I took a surreptitious glance around the room again.
The silver-haired man could definitely see. By the way he rapidly turned his head away, I realized h
e not only could see, he knew. Silver-haired, and well, but casually dressed, in a button-down blue shirt with rolled sleeves and chinos, he was suddenly intent on the wine menu as color rushed to his face.
He wasn’t the only one embarrassed. I flushed and tightened my legs together, leaning over to whisper to Jake, “We’re being watched.”
Jake was seemingly engrossed in our table’s conversation, but I knew he heard me when his broad shoulders gave the slightest answering shrug. Jake had none of my misgivings in general. If I had suggested sex in the park in the light of day, Jake would do it. Under the table, he meanwhile forced another two fingers to join their friend, pumping me slowly. I squeezed my legs together, pausing and fretting. I didn’t think I could finish the game I’d started.
The Virgin Wife Page 2