by May Johnson
Now, now she was arching against him and pulling his hair and convulsing, exclaiming, filling his gullet with her juices as he hummed with satisfaction. He had been her first in this as well; it made him feel rather smug.
Alissa lay gasping as he moved back up over her, hovering on all fours like a lion over its prey, and he watched and waited until her eyes opened before lowering his head to kiss her. She laughed breathlessly and sank her fingers in his hair and let his mouth ravish hers as he had used it to ravish her sex.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Now," he said when he finally released her lips. "I have made my own preparations. It is not that I do not trust your methods but I also have mine."
"Preparations? Oh!" Alissa yelped; he had nipped her ear and bounced off the bed to rummage in the pockets of the trousers he had tossed aside. She leaned up on her elbows, fascinated by the small packet he pulled out and opened.
"A condom?" she said curiously. "I thought they were a modern invention? Can I see it?"
"Certainly." Johnson flung himself down beside her and handed her the contents, which she examined closely. "What is it made of?"
"This is sheepskin," he replied readily; as before, his inquisitive mind temporarily forestalled more carnal pursuits. "An American named Goodyear has succeeded in manufacturing them from rubber, a more flexible and reliable material. However, they are quite bulky and uncomfortable and tend to delay one's satisfaction in a most frustrating manner."
"That’s no good." Alissa laughed as she moved to hand it back to him, then hesitated. "May I do the honors?"
Johnson hesitated as well. The brief lull had distracted his arousal slightly, but his organ sprang to full attention at the thought of her soft fingers applying the skin.
"Very well," he said at last. "Do take care, Alissa."
Kneeling up as he lay back, she touched his cock lightly, stroking her fingers down as if calming an animal, and he caught his breath.
"Firmly," he directed her. "A light touch at this point is agonizing. I have not had a woman in two years."
"I’ll be careful," she said, still touching lightly. He glared at her. She removed her hand and studied the object in her hand, positioned it properly, and began to slide it down onto his length. Johnson clenched his fist in an effort to resist guiding or assisting her. It was a rare feeling of giving up control to another. He wasn't sure he liked it.
When the condom was fully on, he breathed deeply and rolled over with Alissa in his arms, kissing her deeply and feeling her arms wrap around his neck.
"Alissa," he murmured. "Are you certain?"
"Yes," she replied. "Yes, take me."
He went as slowly as he could stand it, slower than he had done in some time, considering that his usual encounters were brief and to the point and that his partners were unconcerned about their own gratification. The part of his mind that never rested was analyzing how far in he might get before encountering her hymen, but as he progressed he felt no resistance, apart from the delicious pressure of her tight passage.
"How does it feel?" he managed to ask. Alissa's eyes were half closed, not in pain but in apparent pleasure, and from her lips issued a soft hum of approval. Very well, thought Johnson, and pressed relentlessly in, until he could feel her soft skin against his balls.
She took hold of his arms and squirmed a little as if to snuggle even closer, and he gasped out, "Alissa," and followed the urging of his body, beginning a slow caress of her inner walls with his member, stroking in and out. She lifted and spread her thighs even more and he thrust harder, more deeply, until his hipbones were plunging against her soft flesh and nothing existed except her warm wet depth and his straining, burrowing cock — he felt her curl upward, her breasts against his chest, and her fingers scrabbled for a hold on his buttocks.
As Johnson spent his seed into her eager body, Alissa clasped and squeezed and gripped any part of him she could reach and he let out a cry, a bellow of triumph, finally subsiding into her arms. When the exquisite throbbing of his release began to fade, he registered the sensation of a soft mouth against his neck, his cheek, and he lifted his head to meet her lips.
CHAPTER FIVE
"Darling," she murmured between kisses.
He could not bear to hear such endearments, though he could not have said why, so he stopped them with his mouth on hers. For a long time, they lay together; then Johnson recalled himself and, carefully holding his sheath at the base, withdrew from her body, rose, and went to dispose of the evidence. When he returned to the bed, Alissa had gotten under the duvet and sat with her back against the headboard. Wordlessly, Johnson poured them each another glass of wine and, after climbing over to sit facing her, toasted his partner.
"Congratulations," he said, somewhat ironically. "On winning me back, Miss Morgan."
"I can’t win back what was always mine anyway," she replied coyly.
"You suppose that I am yours?" Johnson stretched out, leaning on one elbow, bizarrely at ease in his nudity, but glad she hoisted the sheet up over her breasts, for the sake of his concentration.
"You are," she said. "And now you’ve proven it to me."
He cocked an eyebrow playfully. "I was determined to reject you but clearly you have experience in these matters."
"I’m a modern woman, after all." She smiled and Johnson swore he fell in love with her all over again.
"You surprise me," said Johnson, but mildly.
"That’s what I aim to do" Alissa dimpled at him. He had observed the feature before, but for some reason, it was more distracting than it had been previously.
"And you’ve succeeded," Johnson laughed.
"This is only the beginning," she replied with something like a wicked gleam. "I will only have won when I’m completely satisfied."
"You should have realized by now that you have me wound around your finger once again," said Johnson, pulling the side of the coverlet up and wrapping himself in it. "I find it refreshing to have speech with a female who not only speaks her mind but who knows what her thoughts are, to begin with."
"Are women like that so unusual in your time?" Alissa slid down to lie flat, covers up to her chin, tousled curls bright against the sheets.
"Rare indeed," said her companion, a bit glumly. "Most are either so superficial as to bore, or so distraught as to annoy. Or flirtatious, which presents an obstacle to the gaining of any useful information in the line of inquiry."
"I think you know how to handle women like that," Alissa theorized. "And what do you do about the ones who flirt?"
Johnson gave her a suspicious look.
"I will give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you, at least, are not using that question in order to flirt yourself," he said sternly. "I amuse myself in various ways with such women. With some, I behave as though affronted at their forwardness. With others, I allow them to lure me into their frivolous conversation in order to gain their confidence, then when I have it, I wring what information I need from them and leave them wondering what has just occurred. In dire straits, if one should pursue me beyond the limits of my patience, I may launch an offensive."
"An offensive! What do you mean?"
"Either an action or statement so vulgar as to repel, or, in the unlikely case that she becomes even more eager, an invitation to act on her stated intentions."
"Wow, you really are something. Has anyone accepted your indecent proposal?" Alissa's expression was priceless, torn between amusement and indignation. Johnson smirked and rolled right up against her in his cocoon so that their faces were inches apart.
"Oh, yes," he purred. "Which is a refreshing change from seeking relief in the back streets."
"Who is it refreshing for?" she sputtered, lapsing over into hilarity.
"Why? For both parties," he said. "Neither pays a price, either financially or in terms of discretion, and both receive pleasure. I insist on making sure of that."
***
> Alissa burst out laughing, throwing her head back and her arms out. Johnson surged up over her and seized her in his arms, demanding, "Give us a kiss, then, lovey," and plastering a wet buss on her mouth. Something ridiculous had surfaced in him with her laughter, a sense of playfulness and freedom he hadn't experienced in recent memory under any circumstances.
"'Ere now! Let's see what's on offer, then, guvnor," quoted Alissa in her best Cockney. She burst out laughing and he supposed it sounded doubly funny to a woman of the future. Her little hand disappeared under the coverlet, snaking down his lean torso to rummage belowdecks. He grinned at her, grinding down and trapping her hand just short of its goal and pinning her other arm above her head.
"Patience, love," he retorted. "All in good time. My good time, that is."
Her laughter turned to gasps as he quickly applied his lips to her breast, exposed by the slipping down of the sheet and the lifting of her arm. Confident that any sign of resistance was entirely feigned, he spent some time teasing and lapping at the sweet swelling of her bosom. She squirmed under him, only inflaming him further, and when he pulled her other arm up to join the first she did not resist, but wrapped her legs around his waist and arched up against his mouth as he attacked the other breast.
The few women of the gentler classes with whom Johnson had had liaisons had been deliciously skittish or inexperienced or both; he could not recall any one of them who had plunged into pleasuring with such wantonness. And at the other end of the scale, the whores for whom he had traded either farthings or favors were willing and vigorous enough, but understandably rather hasty and businesslike.
"How far?" he panted against her wetted nipple. "How far do you wish to take this, Alissa? Knowing that you will have to leave?"
She was unable to answer immediately, as he went back to sucking and worrying at her skin.
"I want everything you can give me," she managed to say. "It’s better to have loved and lost."