by AnonYMous
I couldn't deny her anything at that moment and, when her soft full thighs opened wide to reveal the spongy pink mouth of her cunt, my loins surged with brutal lust and I plunged my thick, sturdy cock deep into her. There is no pleasure in the whole wide world to equal the feel of the clasping moist inner flesh of a cunt as it yields to accommodate your swollen, hard cock in a warm clinging embrace.
All the dilly-dallying with yellow ribbon had built up within me a passionate urgency that came to a head with a few powerful thrusts. I groaned out loud in relief as the spunk gushed from my cock. Dara's seductive movements underneath me soon brought me back to a rampant heat. Urgency now gave way to pleasure and, remembering her joy at seeing my cock twitching, I jerked it once or twice inside her. The effect was instantaneous; she laced her fingers around my neck and brought her lips to mine in a passionate kiss. Between kisses she pleaded for more.
When I began to tire I asked her to try to do something similar to me by using the muscles around her cunt, promising her a loving kiss for every time she did it to me. There was only a slight twitch to begin with but, as the movements became stronger, I felt my cock being gripped and made it quiver inside her cunt. It was a titillating, provocative and stimulating sensation and I was only too happy to show my appreciation with a loving tongue kiss each time it happened.
When she weakened in her movements, I took over this gentle sensuous stimulation with my jerking cock and so we dillied and dallied with each other for over an hour. Feeling the quickening of my senses, I got my hands underneath her buttocks and, clasping the soft cheeks of her bottom, I fucked her in an unhurried manner. She rose up to meet me and got into rhythm with my movements. The pace increased and caught us up in an excitement which made us cling to each other with a rapturous intensity.
With eyes closed and teeth clenched, her head thrashing from side to side, her hands gripping my shoulders frantically, she rose to a climax of emotion just as the seed from my loins spurted into her. The spasms of tremors that shook us gradually lessened and we lay entwined seeking comfort and gentle caresses. I heard myself saying over and over, 'I love you, I love you, Dara. I love you.'
Getting no answer, I raised myself up to look into her face. Her lips were pale and slightly open and the long silky eyelashes were glistening with tears.
Are you alright, my darling?' I asked anxiously.
She opened her eyes, giving me a tender, loving look through the tears. She sighed, 'I cannot move. I want time to stand still so that I can go on feeling like this for ever and ever,' she murmured more to herself than to me.
I kissed her gently on the lips then rolled over onto my back to stretch my legs out as far as they could go. I loved Dara, the cosy room and our bed; I loved the whole world and all its people. It was a state of bliss where there were no yesterdays or tomorrows.
The light from the morning sun was filtering its way through the fabric of the curtains when I awakened slowly from a deep sleep. With a feeling of utter contentment I stretched out my legs then turned to look at Dara. She was facing me, hair tumbling all over the pillow, her lips parted like a baby in slumber. My movements must have disturbed her for she looked at me with guileless wide eyes for a while, then came a sunny dimpled smile.
As she nestled in my arms I couldn't help asking myself which was the real Dara: was it the seductive enchantress who bewitched me in the glow of the firelight or the artless childlike creature now seeking the warmth and loving embrace of my arms?
Although I knew she was no virgin from the way she welcomed my cock that first time we got stuck into each other on the grass, any curiosity about her past got lost in the storming emotions she aroused in me. Enamoured with her winning ways, I never gave it a thought, but now I was asking myself had she loved someone else with the same abandonment that she was loving me? Was I the exception of did she often bare her fleshy delights to any man who took her fancy?
Thinking back, I remembered that she had been an easy conquest- too easy-indeed she was more than willing and in the first intimate union of our flesh she had screwed me. The more I thought about it the more the suspicion grew that the truth of the matter was that she belonged to any man who could satisfy her hot itchy cunt.
My breath was coming in uneasy gasps as I stared at the ceiling and my finger nails were digging into the palms of my hands. A storming rage thundered through my head cutting out all thought and reason. In my frenzied imagination I could see Dara in the most intimate positions with another man.
Suddenly my flesh couldn't stand having her near me any longer and I savagely pushed her from me. Startled, she looked at me, hurt and bewildered.
'What is it, Elmer?' she asked in a small voice. 'Why are you glaring at me like that? What have I done?'
'Who were you with before you took up with me?' I growled threateningly.
Impatient at the tense silence that followed my outburst I shouted, 'Well, out with it. Come on, tell me,' then added, 'I know I am not the first man to get between your legs.'
The blood was pounding in my head and I cursed her with all the filthy words that I had ever heard. I knew she couldn't hear what I was saying for she lay all curled up with her knees nearly touching her chin and her hands pressed to her ears. That only made me more angry and I shouted louder and my swearing and cursing went from bad to worse as I grabbed her hands and pulled them away from her ears.
Kneeling over her I yelled, 'Tell me, you dirty rotten slut, who's been fucking you?'
Turning her face away from me I saw her lower lip trembling and she gulped before answering me in a low, dispirited voice. 'I am sorry, Elmer. I would have liked to have kept myself for you, but how was I to know that we would meet some day?'
She gulped again. 'Please don't stop loving me. I cannot live without you!'
'Who was it?' I yelled. 'How often did he fuck you?' 'It was a farmer who employed me as a dairymaid when I was but fifteen.'
'Did he rape you?' I demanded to know. 'Or did you lift your skirts up for him?'
T lifted my skirts up for him twice,' she answered in a weary voice as she rose to a sitting position.
'You are nothing but a randy cunt, aren't you?' I insisted as I shook her backwards and forwards by the shoulders. When I had finished shaking her, she faced me with unseeing eyes and whispered, 'Yes, if that's what you want me to be.'
'Is there anything else?' I asked and, when she shook her head, I got out of bed, pulled on my trousers and said in a cold voice, 'I don't believe you. You're a bloody liar. I'll bet there is a lot more to it than what you are saying. It is obvious that you learnt a great deal about men somewhere.'
I got the rest of my clothing on and, before I slammed the door behind me, said, 'Go back to your farmer, you randy bitch.'
Calling at my lodgings to collect my soap samples, I went on to one or two local calls, my mind dead and my voice answering mechanically any queries directed at me by the dealers when they were giving me their orders. The next morning, after a restless night, I set off for Milwaukee area where I was due to call on a number of customers.
It was as if I had closed off most of my mind, leaving a small part to deal with the business of selling soap to the few stores in that area, for I had little feeling and observed nothing of my surroundings. My speech, actions, responses, were automatic and without thought. The mind of a healthy normal individual cannot remain inactive for very long and after my last call in mid-afternoon, the thoughts and emotions came flooding back into my mind.
To begin with it was nearly all emotion with very little clear thinking. Torn apart by jealousy I was like a raving lunatic as I walked along a lonely track across meadow land. Luckily there were only trees and brushwood to see my contorted face and to hear my groans and loud outbursts of anger. Bedevilled in turn by uncontrollable fits of blinding jealousy and raging fury, then slowly descending into depths of maudlin self-pity and sickened by shame as my memory recalled the vile, obscene words I had shouted at Dara. Reason
, God's greatest gift to mankind, overcame my storming emotions, bringing tolerance and common sense to my tortured mind.
What right had I, a married man with two children, who was more than eager to bed a beautiful seventeen-year-old girl, to condemn the same girl for an indiscretion that occurred at least two years before we met and fell in love with each other? The only excuse for my despicable jealousy was that, having fallen in love for the first time in my life, I wanted complete, unsoiled possession of my beloved; past, present and future. Jealousy, that dark destructive side to love, had exploded into a thousand poisoned thoughts to shatter all my tender feelings for the girl I loved. Even her fervent desire to please me had been suspected as the actions of a predatory lustful female.
Driven by guilt, regret and shame, I journeyed on to Chicago in a fever of anxiety and impatience to reach Dara and make amends for my cruel behaviour. The sun was setting when I arrived in Chicago and in the still twilight of the evening I ran to the house where Dara had rented the room. Our home, she had said, but now I was on the threshold I hesitated, wondering if I had forfeited the right to free access to Dara and the cosy room. Surely after subjecting Dara to the foulest obscenities, slandering her with filthy accusations and then leaving her alone in her misery for two days and nights, it would be the height of arrogance to presume that I would be welcome. Drawn by my great need for a reconciliation, I crept up the stairs quietly and timidly knocked on the door. Receiving no answer after my second knock, I ventured to open the door and enter.
The dead silence of the darkened room was intimidating and I was about to leave, thinking Dara was out, when I heard a slight movement from one of the armchairs. Peering through the dim light I could just discern a shadowy figure curled up in the chair.
Putting a light to one of the candles on the mantelpiece, the glimmer illuminated a most pitiful figure. A picture of Dara that was to torment my conscience for many a day. Her doleful face was tear-lined. Eyes heavy with despair looked at me blankly and then closed with uncaring weariness. Looking around the room I could see that the rumpled bedclothes and everything else in the room was just as I had left it. I was to learn later that she had moved from the bed to the chair and had sat there, curtains drawn, for the whole of the time that I was absent.
The bile from my stomach rose in self-disgust at the realization that I had been the cause of all this misery. But this was no time for me to wallow in shame and mortification, and I applied my mind to bring things to rights. First the fire, which I relit to warm the room in the hope of bringing some life back into the still, quiet figure in the armchair. Next some hot food.
Searching the cupboard I could find nothing suitable but three eggs which I put in a pan of water and set to boil on the fire. The thought came to me that she would need more than food to revive her and I dashed out to 'The Dog's Head', a nearby tavern, returning with a bottle of brandy. I removed the hard-boiled eggs from the fire. Getting a spoon from a drawer, I attempted to spoon some of the brandy between Dara's lips. Only half of it went down her throat, the rest dribbled down her chin and onto her blouse. What little she swallowed began to take effect. The colour came back into her cheeks and after a little while she opened her eyes. Her fingers explored my face as if to confirm what she was seeing.
'Elmer, darling,' she whispered. 'Is it really you?'
Overcome with emotion, I was on the verge of tears and could only nod my head in affirmation. When I turned away with the intention of collecting the boiled eggs, she cried out and clutched my jacket. 'Don't leave me. Please don't leave me, Elmer!'
'No, I won't leave you,' I reassured her. 'No, never again.' And then added in a soothing tone, 'I'm just preparing some eggs for you to eat.'
When the eggs were shelled I lifted her onto my lap as I sat in the chair, then coaxed her to swallow small portions of the warm egg. After she had eaten the eggs we just sat there, she occasionally weeping and cuddling up to me with eyes closed, and me with my arms around her in a close, loving embrace.
Sometime later the weeping ceased and she slept fitfully for about an hour. Awakening, she put a hand on my face saying, 'Kiss me, Elmer,' and before I had time to kiss her, 'I'm hungry, Elmer, very hungry. Is there anything to eat?'
Knowing there was nothing to eat, I got her onto her feet.
'Can you walk around the room, Dara?'
She was fairly steady on her feet so, after we had walked twice around the room, I proposed that we go to the tavern and have a pint of ale with a large meat pie. She put her arm through mine, looked up at me and smiled. 'Oh, Elmer, you're back, aren't you? I'll do anything you say, only don't leave me alone. Stay with me. Promise.'
Giving her a gentle hug, I promised never to leave her again and, opening the door, said, 'Now, come on, let's get a hot meat pie down us and then we will both feel better.'
Outside the tavern we nearly fell over a horse trough built specifically on the landlord's instructions so that he could take unruly drunks by the scruff of the neck and hold their heads under the water until they sobered up or passed out.
Inside the tavern it was warm and alive with bustling activity and chattering groups of people. We had only got half way through our pies when a grey-whiskered, broad-shouldered giant of a man approached us in a friendly manner and in a voice rich and fruity with good humour boomed, 'You're new to the neighbourhood, aren't you? Welcome. I'm Vladimir Aksakov. What your name?'
'Elmer Varley,' I replied, shaking him by the hand as I rose to my feet. And this is my woman, Dara.'
The warm tavern, the food and the brandy had revived her spirits to the extent that she gave him one of her dazzling smiles. Vladimir obviously had an eye for a pretty girl. He couldn't take his eyes off Dara and, in the hope of getting more such smiles, spread himself across the other side of the table.
'Pies good?' he asked.
We nodded.
'They would be better with some of my vegetables in them, but the landlord won't listen to me. “Meat pies are meat pies,” he says. “If they want vegetables they can have them separate, but not in my pies.”
He shook his head sadly and sighed. 'He is a stubborn man, is Harry-Won't listen to me.'
Bringing his tankard up to his mouth, he swilled half his drink down his throat with one swallow, leaving a row of beer beads hanging from the hairs of his moustache. He went on about his fruit and vegetable stall that he manned every day further along Lakeside and expressed the hope that Dara would patronize his stall. Talkative and entertaining, he tried a number of times to draw Dara into the conversation, but without success. She was too busy eating her pie.
I could see the look of disappointment on his face because he wasn't having any effect on her and, laughingly, I said in a friendly voice, 'It's no good, Vladimir, she only has eyes for me. She is a one man girl and I'm the lucky man.'
He gave me a searching, quizzical look then, seeing the grin on my face, threw back his head and roared with laughter. The thunderous guffaws that followed had everyone looking in our direction seeking the cause of the uproar. My remarks were not that funny, but I was pleased that he had taken the rebuff in the right spirit.
I found myself weighing him up. It was his eyes that caught my attention first. Pale grey, tolerant and calm, and in complete contradiction to the thunderous laughter and loud talk. I sensed that behind all that boisterous behaviour there was a thoughtful, patient man. When we became acquainted I was to discover that he was indeed a very patient man especially when pursuing a woman with the purpose of seducing her, which probably accounted for his many successes with even the most virtuous of women.
I always remember my uncle saying, 'Never push a patient man too far, for when he does lose his temper all hell is let loose and there is murder in his eyes,' and I made a mental note to steer clear of Vladimir if he should ever lose his temper.
For the rest of him, he had a mass of wolfish grey hair, a bulbous nose protruding from a large expressive face that was constantly changi
ng from clowning pathos to exhilarating humour; a big, cuddly, amiable Russian bear with bulging arms, strong enough to crack your ribs in a mighty hug.
During the ensuing months Vladimir and I became firm friends and, although he still hankered after Dara, I sensed she would come to no harm from his attentions. She complained to me more than once about him buzzing her rear with his great big hand while she was buying vegetables from his stall. I told her to stand well clear of him when she was at the stall and to treat it all as a game of 'catch me if you can'. She must have taken my advice as I heard no further complaints about Vladimir fondling her bum. Indeed, when the three of us were in 'The Dog's Head' together, she began to take his flattery and lecherous looks with a certain amount of indulgence and good humour and often retaliated with teasing remarks about the women she met at the stall who simpered and giggled every time he spoke to them.
Vladimir would shrug his shoulders and deny that there was anything improper going on; they were, according to him, 'just good customers'.
'Oh, yes,' Dara would reply with a laugh. 'They're good customers because they know where to go when they're randy for theirgreens.'
Vladimir, with a good show of indignation, then pretended to be shocked at her reference togreens, and changed the subject rapidly.
On an evening shortly after Christmas, he opened up to tell us why he had emigrated to America. But, as he was about to satisfy our curiosity on this matter, his words were drowned in an outburst of deafening raucous laughter coming from a group of men near us.
As the uproar increased we all stood up to see what was going on. A villainous looking brute with a battle-scarred face had his foot on a man's belly as he lay prone on the floor and was pouring ale into the victim's open mouth. When the ale began to dribble from the man's mouth the foot would come hard down into his guts to make it come spewing up again like a small fountain. No doubt very funny to the onlookers, but painful to the man on the floor who was pretending to enjoy taking the part of the victim in this horse-play, but I could see the pain and anxiety in his eyes every time the foot dug deep into his guts.