by Malone, Amy
Alana sat in her aunt’s cabin with the television loud enough to fill the house with sound. She remembered the cabin as a warm and loving place - just what she needed in her life right now - but realized only now that the soul of the cabin was her aunt. Without her, it just wasn’t the same. There was no use lying down, Alana knew there was no chance she would sleep. Still feeling the euphoric high the adventure of travel always gave her, she felt ready to do something. In this town, however, there simply wasn’t that much to do.
She sat on the front porch and riffled through her cell. Damn, should’ve gotten Mark’s number. Alana began to wonder if her so-called vacation wouldn’t turn into a different kind of trap from that awaiting her in the city. A boring one. Wait, what about auntie’s address book? She hopped up and dashed over to the drawer near the front hall where her aunt kept a list of important numbers in case of emergencies. Sure enough, it was just where it had always been, even during her childhood. “Everything in its place,” her aunt would always say.
Moving down the list on the ancient legal pad, Alana found the number titled ‘Jessup’, the nickname Mark’s grandfather went by locally. Alana, whipping out her cell phone, paused. Her aunt had left town shortly after Jessup’s death, and now that it was nearly the anniversary of it, Aunt Barbara had left town again. Alana hadn’t connected the dots. Making a note in her mind to check on her aunt when next they spoke, Alana dialed the number to Mark’s grandfather’s house, hoping the landline to the house was still on.
Mark awoke to a familiar ringing sound. Mistaking it for his own phone first, he realized the tone was different and it was coming from elsewhere in the house. Is it the doorbell? He peeked out of the window next to the front door but saw no one. Only when all the options were exhausted did he realize that it was the phone in the kitchen.
Wondering who it could be, and answering more to stop the shrill ring than anything, he picked up the receiver.
“Hello?” There was a pause during which no one responded. Mark tried again. “…Hello?”
“Hi. Mark? This is Alana. Are you still up?”
After a little talking, and a few apologies from Alana for calling so late, the two decided to meet by the lake to catch up on old times. Mark brought a bottle of wine. Alana brought wine glasses and a blanket to lie on.
“Hey there stranger,” Alana said, as Mark got out of his car, wine bottle in hand. She noticed that he was taller than when last he’d met. He’d also seemed to have filled out more.
“Hi yourself,” he said with a crooked smile. It looked like they were falling into their old rhythm. Alana was wearing jeans and a tank top, but looked absolutely amazing in them. Normally a relatively conservative outfit, her form lent it a sexual power. It was her well-carved hips and sumptuous, ripe breasts that beckoned to another side of him, raking coals he had thought exhausted and jaded into a flame.
They situated themselves on the grassy knoll beside the lake, and poured generous glasses of wine.
“So,” Mark said as they sat, staring out onto the lake in the moonlight, “what messed up life situation brings you here?”
Alana burst out laughing, nearly spitting out her wine in a very unladylike manner. And after all the trouble she’d gone through to pick a decent outfit to make up for earlier (she’d decided on a pair of jeans and a cute orange tank top - causal and cute). She recovered enough to pretend to take offense.
“First of all. I’m not the only one here,” she retorted.
“Touché, madame.”
“And second, who says I have a messed up life situation?”
It occurred to Alana that Mark had changed somewhat, although there was something about his layback, doing-a-little-fishing-on-a-sunny-day demeanor that was the same. For one, he certainly never used to use words like ‘touché’.
“Well, if you didn’t have one, why come here?” he asked. “For a city girl like yourself especially, places like this are only good for getting away.”
Mark had a point.
“Besides, your aunt’s not even there.”
“And how did you know that, mister?” Alana asked. She knew word travelled fast in a small town, but it wasn’t as if Mark lived here, either.
Mark scooted closer to Alana on the blanket leaning over. There was a chill to the air, but the wine warmed their bellies.
“Because your aunt told me,” he said, smirking. “She planned her trip around my arrival so I could drop by every day and make sure the house was alright.”
They both burst into laughter. Partly it was the wine, but the larger part was that they both realized what Alana’s crafty Aunt Barbara had been up to. Hearing of Mark’s divorce and being told about Alana’s directly, she’d decided to try and play matchmaker.
Mark looked up at the stars and moon, pondering. Being out here with Alana, reliving old times with her, was exactly what he’d needed. He owed Aunt Barb one.
He suddenly felt something on his shoulder. Looking down, he realized Alana had laid her head there. She was so beautiful, and smelled divine. Mark tried to withhold his excitement at her mere touch, resisting the urge to poison such a sweet moment by looking down into her tank top where, he was sure, she was not wearing a bra. He laughed inwardly. Yep, he’d been transported back to his high school self, alright.
He stroked her back as they looked out over the lake. He felt the tenderness of the moment, but couldn’t help a certain excitement as he ran his hands over her back tenderly. Despite his attempt to resist himself, he grew stiff in his pants.
“This is nice,” she said, nuzzling deeply into his neck, and pulling her body close.
“Yeah,” he said, stroking her arm. He loved being close to her, and didn’t want to take advantage of the moment. It would be time to go to their separate houses, soon.
“Well, maybe we should-” he began, starting to stand.
“No,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist, reflexively. She didn’t want him to leave, not right now. This was perfect and she wanted it to last as long as she could get it to.
“Okay,” he said settling back down. She looked up into his eyes, and he felt her vulnerability, making her all the more beautiful and irresistible. Feeling the slavering hunger of a pack wolf, he caressed her chin and brought her in for a gentle kiss. Just one little kiss, enough to beat back this need for her. She pressed into him, kissing him fully. Suddenly, her body pressed into him, falling onto as they continued to smack their lips together with a desperate, intimate, passion. Mark had underestimated Alana’s hunger for him.
Taking her by the waist, Mark lifter her up so that she was straddling him. She pulled away when the crotches of their pants met, but he pulled her in willfully. Alana’s resistance melted. Mark knew he would have her, savor her every taste and smell and touch as fully as he could before they were both spent. There might be consequences later, but it was too late now. The urge was too strong in them both, and there was no going back in the ancient, primal, dance they’d started.
Mark’s hands ran up Alana’s bare back underneath her tank top. A sigh puffed out from between her full, desperate lips before coming back down to meet his. Mark’s caress danced over Alana’s bottom, setting off a warm glow that spread and grew. Alana was warm now, hot even, and her breath deepened as the warmth in her belly from the wine spread downward, down to her groin. She could feel Mark’s need underneath her, close. To satisfy hers, to attempt to put it out before it became too much, she grinded against his hard on. They became a tangle of small moans and gasps as they fell deep into their sexual trance.
Mark raised her top, Alana understanding that she was to take it off the rest of the way. They were bonded now, and their bodies understood that they would have impassioned, animal sex. There was no need to rush as they both knew it was inevitable, but there was a certain urgency the pulled them forward at each stage, moving them yet again.
Now Alana yanked Mark’s shirt off, Mark barely raising his arms in time for her t
o pull it off. She was riding him now, breaking from kissing, giving herself and him time to miss each other’s lips. Her body led her forward, and she could not ignore its call. Tonight, they would be one.
He flipped her over, putting her down on the blanket and kissing her perfect neck. He took a moment to look at her pert, perfectly shaped breasts. He pulled her hair up and out of her face, giving it a gentle, firm pull. She gasped again in pleasure. Mark nuzzled his face into her neck, becoming drunk off of her scent. Vaguely, he knew it wasn’t exactly impossible that some late night fisher or horny teenagers could walk in on them at any moment, but he didn’t care. His lust, his love, was too overwhelming and complete.
Kissing his way down gingerly, he moved to her breasts, caressing one while moving his tongue in circles around the areola of the other, careful not to touch it. Alana cooed in pleasure, her body shifting as she grappled with the heights she was reaching. If Mark stuck his hands in her pants now, her obedient pussy would come immediately. Mark, as if reading her thoughts, broke from her breast a moment, though it was almost painful to do so. He looked in her eyes devilishly as he caressed her thighs.
Continuing, he went back to the sacred task of her breasts, working his way onto the areola but avoiding her nipple. He pulled back again, kissing her on the lips. Alana was going crazy. If this went on any longer she would go insane. Mark, being merciful, lapped at her nipples gently, going from one to the other and smoothly massaging them together to make suckling them easier. Alana’s breathing was desperate and heavy. Her only hope was that Mark would remove her pants, soon.
Slowly, he massaged her inner thigh. He bit her shoulder lightly and she jumped a bit, excited but aroused by the gesture. What would he do next? While he enjoyed her, and lightning bolts of pleasure exploded in her brain with every touch and kiss, she moved his hands along his thick arms, smelled his cologne mixed with the musk of his exciting arousal and glistening muscle. He was training her body, feeling her out, and he would soon dominate her completely, pulling her into his would spiritually even as he entered hers physically.
Alana lay back, sighing. It was almost time for him to begin. Her moans increased in intensity, bursting out of her reflexively as he caressed her groin over her pants. Mark could see her black lace panties begin to peak over the waist of her jeans in her writhing excitement. He couldn’t wait to love her orifices with his naked self, thrusting into them gently and roughly in turns.
Mark undid the top button of her jeans, and she rolled aside him to yank them off. They kissed as the denim fabric slid over her smooth, earthen curves. Mark got his own pants off in record time, unbuckling, unbuttoning, and yanking down in record time. Her mouth began to water as she kissed his chest sweetly. Lightly following her hands down his abdomen.
She felt a hand rest on the back of her head, and knew without a doubt where her first stop would be as she traveled down. She pulled his underwear down, his pink throbbing member beaconing her. Lightly, Alana’s tongue worked over his slit, making Mark moan in gratitude. A large, rough hand massaged the back of her head, running through her hair and suddenly grabbing a clump tight. Guiding her slowly, Mark guided Alana’s head gently onto his shaft, pushing down. They had a long night ahead, and he didn’t want it ending too early.
Alana’s satisfied hum reverberated down his succulent member as she slurped up and down in a state of deep reverie. Mark gently pulled her off just before the twitches of climax started, pushing her onto her back. My turn, he thought with a grin.
Giving her stomach a light kiss, he moved down to her black lace underwear, hugging up into her crevice excellently. Mark kissed along the upper panty line - where the lace met her stomach just below her belly button. He kissed her risen mound just over her steaming pussy, ready now and always just for him. He pulled her underwear down slowly, kissing her skin as it was exposed, finally reaching her freshly shaved muffin and lapping her clit as it appeared over the black lace.
Alana was possessed, undulating into his face while resting her hands on the back of Marks head, loving the passion and hunger with which he drank in her love honey and inhaled its natural perfume. He pushed her legs back over her chest to make plain her steaming passion spot. Raising himself, her planted kisses on her stunning raised legs as he lifted his nine inch domination, ready to plunge into her depths.
Mark laid his throbbing mast pole onto her willing port, making himself slick for the nights journey across a sea of passion and intimacy - one long overdue. Their eyes met. She was ready, scared but desperate to be filled.
“You’re shivering like a leaf my love,” he said, continuing to slide up and down the length of her petals.
“Please. Take me,” Alana gasped, nearly unable to respond at all.
“Don’t worry my love, I’ll quinch our thirst,” Mark spoke breathily, barely able to hold himself back now.
She was nearly gushing, and his cock moved up and down her soaked muffin lips easily and smoothly. The head of his member touched the mouth of her quivering ecstasy, gingerly rubbing the stops of them as he felt her out. Alana became silent, head arched back and eyes closed in anticipation.
Entry was a heated burst. Alana saw fireworks on the insides of her eyelids as Mark slipped into her. I can’t fit him all, she thought, as he his grunts, mixed with her joyous butterflied moans, expressing her need for him even as it expressed her worry that she couldn’t take him.
“You’re so big, I don’t know…”
“Trust me baby. I know you can do it.”
Mark slid more and more deeply into her. She cooed and shifted even as she felt her walls stretch under the pressure of his gentle thrust. I’ll be ruined for any other man, she thought.
“Oh, you feel so wonderful. You’re so hot and wet for me,” Mark grunted, thrusting in and out smoothly even as Alana’s open-mouthed face shifted from side to side even as her poor little pussy adjusted to Mark’s length with every thrust. His pace of his piston, slick with Alana, picked up as their bestial urges came to a head, and Mark came down to his hilt with every loving inward motion. She screamed for her life so much Mark was almost afraid he was hurting her, but Alana begged him not to stop. Lost in her, completely lost in her, he finished, climaxing deep inside. She felt his hot bursts and moaned sighs, contented.
The lay there in the minutes after, drifting to sleep naked on the blanket, folding half of it over them to keep them warm. Alana slept in Mark’s large, perfect arms, feeling warmer and safer than she ever had, despite their exposure. Their night passed under the star sprinkled sky, the sounds of crickets and other nocturnal creatures cocooning them.
Chapter Three
The next morning Alana’s eyes cracked open, letting the rising sun in. Mark’s shoulder rose and fell softly with his breaths, and she smiled - nuzzling back into his arm. Later, when the sun began to rise in full force and the danger of fisherman arriving became more imminent, they decided to treat themselves to breakfast in town.
“I’m gonna run back by Grandpop’s house and change. Pick you up in thirty?”
Alana agreed. She needed a shower and a change, herself. Mark drove back in his now wrinkled suit, whistling and humming out of tune. Life had looked pretty bleak when he’d gotten here, but he felt things turning around. This place had turned out to be just the thing the doctor -
He spotted her car parked in front of his grandfathers’ house. To see it here was to see two of his different worlds transposed, one infecting the other. In the gleaming light, the jaguar looked almost alien. No. It can’t be.
He parked next to the vehicle and climbed the front porch stairs, heavy with what - or who - he knew he would find. Sure enough, he spotted her through one of the open curtained windows. In the kitchen already moving around, cooking, and making herself at home, was Tammy.
Alana practically danced through the halls of her aunt’s house. She raised the blinds and open the curtains on all the windows as she moved, feeling transcendent. Sure, all the o
ld worries that came with sex attempted - once or twice - to push themselves into her mind (concerns about whether she should have after having seen him so soon and oh! what would her aunt think if she knew and God she let him finish inside and was this a one-time thing or was he really interested?) but she pushed them right back out, again. She wasn’t going to let anything, anything, take this moment and this feeling away from her. Tossing open her bag, she reached in for a cute little number that packed easily, a yellow sundress. She acquired a straw hat and sunshades from her aunt’s collection, and proceeded to lay them out on the guest room bed before starting her shower.
Running her loofah and hands over her skin in the shower, she found herself wishing they were Mark’s hands. Maybe next time, she thought, smiling. Trying herself with a large towel, she moved to the phone to get the time and check for messages from Mark. She remembered a famous comedian making a joke about cell phones letting woman wait by the phone while on the go, and chuckled. Just so true, she thought. It was just before eleven and there was one text from Mark.
Hey. I’ve gotta cancel breakfast this morning. I’m so sorry. Will call, later.
Alana froze. She reread the message four times, trying not to over react. It was just like every other message she’d gotten before being dumped. It was just like the messages she’d started getting from her husband before their divorce, after years of marriage. After only one night, her oldest friend and newest lover had rejected her. This was record time. She sat on the bed, and held back tears, feeling stupid both for giving herself to Mark, and for crying about what should have been obvious.