Whatever Goes Up
Page 17
Midge panted, “This night has got to last me a long time. Rod. Please darling, say you understand! I know you’re wounded and all, but—“
“I’m not wounded there,” I pointed out with perfect logic.
“No, you aren’t,” she nodded, eyes big and wide.
“You’ll have to do all the work. All I can do is lie here. Well, maybe that’s not all I can do, but as far as moving around, forget it.”
“I’m not wounded. I can move—and how I’ll move! Here, look at this little surprise, sweetie.”
The black satin hem went up to her hips. Under the evening gown she was wearing skimpy black nylon and red lace divided panties. They consisted of two leg openings and a panel across the belly. An empty, inverted vee showed off her intimate parts, full of fluffy blonde hair.
“I like it, I like it,” I reiterated.
Her blue eyes were slumbrous. “I thought you might, that’s why I bought them. Just for you.”
The hem rose to her navel. The divided panties were worn over her garterbelt, they did not detract from her ability to perform any number of love-in positions, but they damn well did add to her attractiveness.
The gown lifted to her armpits. Her breasts were gently swinging globes of blue-veined white flesh. Midge giggled, watching my eyes dance from one dark red nipple to the other, back and forth, as they shook and jiggled in an appeal to my manhood.
“Get ready, Rod,” she breathed. “I have to get me enough tonight to make up for all the lonely nights coming up in some hotel room, where I’ll be waiting for that trial, all alone behind a locked door.”
“Come and get it, honey,” I wheedled.
The evening gown went flying across the room, Midge stepped down off the chair and came toward me, bare arms extended to their full length as she went on shimmying for my benefit. She giggled, bending over. Her breasts dangled, brushing their nipples against my zist, as the French sometimes name the male organ.
My hips squirmed pleasurably.
“Well, come on,” I growled.
Her laughter was wicked, sensual. “Is big mans in such a hurrykins?” she whispered, breasts swaying back and forth, scratching my flesh.
“Damn right I am,” I growled, reaching my right hand from her bare back, sliding my palm down the soft flesh to her garterbelt. “Move closer, my little Venus fly-trap—I can’t move my left arm without hurting, but I can move my right.”
“Uh-uh. I do everything. Remember? I bribed one of the doctors attending you to give me a number of vitamin shots. I’m determined to find out just how much of a hold on you that priapism has. I’m going to bring you down to where us poor mortals live, Rod. Rod! What a name for a guy like you. Wowww!”
Her soft palm slid across my hairy upper thigh. It caressed me gently, quivering as her own libido reacted to the fondlings she bestowed on my maleness. Midge leaned across the bed, putting her left cheek down on my belly.
She began licking me slowly with her wet tongue. Her painted red mouth gaped to caress, to please. I was moaning deep in my throat.
“We don’t need the prelims,” I panted.
“I want you to last,” she breathed.
“It’s you I’m worried about,” I grated as her teeth closed down. “You’ll poop out long before I do.”
She crawled onto the bed, resting on her nyloned knees, smiling down at me. “Won’t I? Won’t I last? I’ll show you, mister man.”
A stockinged leg lifted, swung over my loins. Midge lowered herself, gripping and fitting me to her need. As she sank into complete ecstasy, she gave a shrill cry.
“All night long?” I challenged.
“All—night—long,” she nodded, settling her hips to their task of driving the two of us buggy.
She almost made it, at that.
Five hours and twenty-three orgasms later, Midge Priest sagged limply down on top of me. There was no more strength left in her. She was snoring gently three seconds after she laid her head on my unwounded shoulder.
I was something of a spent spy myself. The things I do for my country! Well, in a manner of speaking, Midge had been my country—where I really lived—for a little while.
Just an old country boy. That’s me.