Mary Janice Davidson, Michele Bardsley, Chris Tanglen - Lighthearted Lust (Ellora's Cave)

by james

  He leaned forward to kiss her, and she met his tongue with her own. They kissed deeply, their tongues exploring each other’s mouth, not breaking the kiss until Melody had to gasp for breath.

  “Ooooh, yeah, fuck me,” she said, closing her eyes. Of course, he already was fucking her, and had been for quite some time, but for some reason she felt comfortable talking dirty with Alex, and liked doing it. “Fuck me,” she repeated.

  Alex continued to do as he was instructed.

  After about a minute, the heavy metal song blasting over the stereo (some group that Alex liked) ended and Melody decided that her leg wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this position. Anyway, she was developing a hankering to be taken doggy-style.

  As the next song began, she gently pushed him away, took a moment to stretch her leg, and then crawled onto her hands and knees, raising her ass in the air. She knew it wasn’t the finest ass in existence, but with Alex she didn’t have to feel self-conscious about it. He crouched behind her and she prepared for another fine round of vigorous, frantic, joyous fucking.

  Instead, she was treated to the sensation of his tongue on her extremely wet pussy. Alex was a huge proponent of the idea of frequently licking her there, and insisted on non-lubricated condoms for just that reason. Melody was not inclined to complain.

  She squirmed as he moved his tongue in quick up-and-down strokes, nearly making her come as soon as it touched her clitoris. Melody pressed her face into the pillow and tried to grab a handful of bed sheets, but those had already been thrown to the floor earlier in the session.

  Alex caressed her buttocks as he licked her, sending her into a frenzy. She was going to come any second now, and it was going to be good.

  The sadistic bastard pulled away. He clearly knew how close she was to an explosion of ecstasy, and was determined to postpone her pleasure until the absolute perfect moment. She let out a loud whimper to let him know how cruel he was being, although he probably couldn’t hear it over the music.

  Moments later his cock was back inside her again, and he resumed the process of fucking her senseless. She had no idea how such a young cock could be so incredibly skilled, but it wasn’t a matter that she really wanted to delve into. Instead, she contented herself with the knowledge that this awesome cock was inside her right now, despite where it might have lurked in the past.

  “Oooooh…” she moaned. She tried but failed to think of something clever to say after “oooooh,” and just settled for saying “oooooh” a few more times. God, he was good! Alex pounded into her with a jackhammer rhythm, his hands tightly gripping her waist. Though she wasn’t into the whole submissive thing, there was definitely something appealing about having a man take her this forcefully.

  He fucked her like that throughout the song, releasing her waist with one hand halfway through so that he could very gently probe between her buttocks

  with his finger. Her ass was mostly off-limits, but there was certainly nothing wrong with a gentle probing now and then.

  Finally, Melody decided that it was time to take him just as forcefully.

  “On your back!” she ordered, just as the song ended.

  Without hesitation, Alex pulled out of her and flopped onto his back. Melody spun around and stroked his condom-covered cock with her hand a few times before climbing on top of him and impaling herself upon it. Deeply upon it.

  His hands slid over her large breasts as she rode him for all he was worth. And he was worth a hell of a lot. He groaned and said “oooooh” several times. Melody bounced up and down, her body slapping against his, his thumbs working her erect nipples. She had many years of insufficient sex to make up for, and by golly she was going to make up for it and collect the fucking interest.

  She moved her hand down to her clitoris and began to vigorously rub it with her index and middle fingers. She’d been embarrassed to do this trick the first few times she’d had sex with Alex, until the time he placed her hand there for her, encouraging her. She’d finished him off and then given him a show.

  “I’m close…” Alex warned.

  “One more minute…please…”

  She slowed down her thrusting but increased the speed of her fingers. It

  wouldn’t take long. Not even the full sixty seconds. Possibly not even…

  She sucked in a deep breath as she realized that she was almost there.

  Melody came, letting out a howl of pleasure that made her extremely

  thankful she lived in a house and not an apartment. Alex came immediately afterward, howling even louder than she did.

  It took a while for her to coast down from it, but finally she collapsed on top of him, covered with perspiration and completely exhausted.

  “Holy shit…” Alex moaned.

  “Holy shit…” Melody agreed.

  Alex glanced over at the clock, which read 7:32 A.M. “I have to get going. I’ve got a class at eight.”

  “Okay, sweetie.”

  He gave her a kiss and got out of bed. She watched his adorable ass as he walked into the bathroom.

  Jeez, he was half her age.

  Well, no, not really. She’d have to be thirty-eight to be twice his age. And when he turned twenty, she’d be thirty-seven, so the gap would narrow even further.

  She’d lost her virginity while he was still in diapers.

  She put that out of her mind. The sex was fantastic and legal.

  Life was good.

  * * * * *

  That night, Alex seemed uncharacteristically rushed as he looked over what Melody had written that day. Before Alex, Melody had never let anyone so much as glance at her works-in-progress, but his comments were always invaluable, and she’d gotten to the point where she insisted that he read her new pages for the day.

  “I don’t think an eyeball makes a popping sound when you stab it.” Alex tapped the pages on the edge of the desk to straighten them and then laid them down.

  Melody finished typing her current sentence then turned around and looked up at him. “It doesn’t? What kind of sound does it make?”

  “I’m not sure. I think it probably would sound sort of squishy.”

  “Demonstrate a squishy eyeball stabbing sound.”

  “Jeez, I don’t know…maybe something like…” Alex contorted his mouth to get the sound effect right, “…pwook!”

  Melody considered that. “Maybe I should look this up next time I go to the library.”

  “You could probably just call a doctor. Or you could buy a frog from a biology lab and…nah, forget that.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Melody scribbled the suggestions on her to-do pad. She returned her attention to the computer screen and typed a couple more sentences before she realized that Alex was still standing behind her.

  “I should probably tell you something,” said Alex. “I’m leaving you.”

  She stopped in the middle of the word entrails. “What?”

  “I’m moving out. Right now.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s over between us.”

  “Alex, wait a minute, you can’t just throw something like that at me. We need to discuss this. As soon as I finish this page we’ll go out and—”

  “I’ve made up my mind.” Alex’s expression was resolved. “This relationship just isn’t working. I’m tired of taking a distant second place to eyeball puncturing.”

  Melody saved her file, and then pushed back her chair and stood up. “Sweetie, wait! You can’t make a decision like this without even talking to me!”

  “I’ve tried. Every time I bring up the subject you change it to something about your books. Last week I told you that I thought you took me for granted, and you immediately rushed to the computer and typed for three hours because it sparked an idea for Kill Loudly and Carry a Big Chainsaw.”

  “My writing is very important to me. You knew that from the beginning.”

  “I understand that. Bu
t I could leave town for a month and you’d only notice if you needed to ask me how far I thought a six-year-old girl could throw a severed head! I don’t get the sense that our relationship is about anything but sex. I feel like I’m just your boy-toy.”

  Melody couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Alex, you’re fucking nineteen years old! You’re supposed to want to be a boy-toy! It’s supposed to be all about sex at your age!”

  “Not for me.”

  “That’s just plain demented!”

  “Look, the sex is great, I won’t lie to you, but I need to be more than just a cock to you.”

  “You are more than just a cock.” You’re also a tongue, Melody thought to herself, and immediately felt horrible for doing so.

  “You’re completely inattentive unless you’re horny.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “I’ve been home since five. It’s nine now. In these four hours not only have I

  packed up everything I own and loaded it my car, but I came in here to ask where the packing tape and my green suitcase were.”

  A tear trickled down Melody’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I get so wrapped up in what I’m doing I just…I don’t realize… Let’s talk about this, okay?”

  “I’ve made my decision. I refuse to be less important than your crappy books.”

  Melody sucked in a deep breath. Alex flinched as if struck. A very definite ‘oh, shit,’ expression appeared across his features. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean crappy, I just meant—”

  “Get out.”

  Alex stood there for a long moment, and then nodded and left the room. Melody listened as he walked down the stairs and left through the front door. She slumped over her keyboard, buried her face in her hands, and began sobbing.

  How dare he attack her books like that? No, she wasn’t William Shakespeare or James Joyce or Erma Bombeck, but she was good at what she wrote. Maybe the critics didn’t care for her stuff, and maybe her mother always answered the question “What did you think of it?” with a thirty-second silence, but this was what Melody wanted to do. She wanted to write horror novels. Yeah, she still had to work a part-time administrative assistant job to make ends meet, but she

  was happy with the way things were going. Why, only last month…well, no, two, no, three months ago…she’d gotten a great fan letter.

  But that wasn’t really the issue. Alex didn’t dump her because of a lack of respect for her writing prowess; he dumped her because she ignored him. She hadn’t even realized it, but, yeah, looking back, as deeply as she’d cared for him (okay, as deeply as she’d lusted for him), she had kept him in the background much of the time.

  Kept him in the background? Hell, she’d been completely self-centered. She’d only devoted attention to their relationship when she felt like it, which was only when she was in the mood to get laid.

  There’s nothing quite like that special moment of realization that one has been a total cretin.

  Well, it wasn’t going to happen again. If she ever met another guy who wasn’t completely repulsed by her, she was going to give him one hundred percent. He was going to be spoiled beyond belief. She’d take such good care of him that he’d never, ever leave.

  Until she met him, though, she was going to wipe away her tears and finish chapter eight.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SATURDAY

  Though the pigs-in-a-blanket on the hors d’oeuvre table were some of the most delicious processed meat products he’d ever consumed, Tim Neffster still wasn’t enjoying himself. Sure, he was getting to see all of his old co-workers, but the whole affair was depressing.

  “See that?” Frank Moyen thrust his driver’s license about three-eighths of a millimeter from Tim’s face. “Is that impressive or what? Now that is a driver’s license photo. I’ve had seventeen of these things, and I have never had such a good picture. I mean, look at it! Usually I’ve got some kind of fakey mongoloid smile, or one of my eyes is closed, or my hair’s sticking up the way it does when I sleep on my face. But see? Nice, pleasant smile, both eyes open, hair in place. I wouldn’t go out and have it framed or anything, but, damn, just look at it!”

  “It’s a good one, no doubt about that.” Tim wondered what the chances were that a loose power cable might drop from the ceiling and electrocute Frank. It would be an awkward way to end this conversation, but it would be worth the time spent explaining to the coroner what had happened. “If my own picture ever turned out that nice, who knows where I’d be today?”

  “God made winners and He made losers.” Frank took a sip of his champagne-sprinkled water, then looked around the room. “Guess I’d better mingle some more. If I don’t get back to you, thanks for coming.”

  “My pleasure,” Tim lied. “And congratulations.”

  After Frank left, Tim decided to return to the hors d’oeuvre table before the pigs-in-a-blanket vanished. As he weaved his way around a really drunk woman who was trying to balance a dachshund on her nose, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around.

  If he remembered correctly, her name was Karen. She had the face of a model, vaguely cat-like (without the fur), and flowing auburn hair that seemed to be the envy of every single female in the entire world. She was also more than six feet tall, had muscles like a professional weightlifter, and carried herself in a way that scared the hell out of him.

  “Hello there,” she said in her deep, almost manly voice. “Remember me?”

  “Sure. You’re Karen, right? How’re things going?”

  “Tolerable, but not overwhelmingly consequential.” She gave him a sympathetic smile. “I saw you scrutinizing Frank’s license. You’d think he’d have something more substantial to discuss at his own wedding reception.”

  Tim shrugged. “I don’t know—look who he married. If I were him, I’d want to talk about something else, too.”

  They both peered across the room at the new Mrs. Moyen. Her wedding gown was nearly transparent, allowing for a good view of her hot pink nylons. Tim had never much liked her, not just because she’d married Frank for his money, but because she was too clueless to realize that he didn’t have any.

  Karen smiled. “So, you’re the proprietor of a café now, right?”

  Tim nodded. He wasn’t positive, but he suspected that this was the first time he’d ever heard the word “proprietor” spoken aloud in real life. “Yeah, with my brother. It’s called Dual Streams. A little food, a little live entertainment, nothing fancy. We finally got the gas leak taken care of and the lawsuit was dropped, so we’re doing fine. How’s the psychiatry business treating you?”

  Karen rolled her eyes. “I always believed I was a little off-center, but there’s no competition!”

  Tim smiled, but the smile was sucked right off his face as he looked across the room and saw…her. “Aw, great. It’s my ex-mother-in-law. Maybe she hasn’t…nope, she’s seen me. Maybe she won’t…nope, she’s coming over.”

  “Hello, Timothy.” Sylvia was a short little woman in her fifties with a sweet voice and plump body. Tim was continually surprised that Satan had chosen such an innocuous person to use as his Servant of Evil.

  “Hi.” Dreading the conversation to follow, Tim was noticeably lackluster in his response. Talking to Sylvia was going to make his conversation with Frank seem like talking dirty to a voluptuous woman giving him a warm oil massage.

  “You’re looking well,” Sylvia noted. “Diane is looking quite well, too. The three-month world-tour honeymoon with her new millionaire husband was very good for her. They’re so happy together that it makes me want to cry whenever I

  think about it. The wedding was absolutely lovely.”

  Tim nodded. “I know. You sent me the video.”

  “You’d be so thrilled for her. Since your divorce she’s lost forty pounds and

  her sex drive has tripled. Oh, and you’d be amazed what living with astounding wealth has done for her complexion.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “An
d their new home, oh, it’s simply to die for!” Sylvia proclaimed. “Did you get the photos?”

  “I got the photos. All three sets, plus the poster.” The damn thing had even been framed. “Listen, ex-Mom, I really wish you’d quit sending me stuff. Especially those photocopies of their monthly bank statements…do they even know you’re doing that?”

  “I just thought you’d be interested in seeing how Diane is doing, since you did promise to love and cherish her forever, if I remember correctly from that expensive wedding ceremony my departed husband and I paid for.”

  Tim pointed across the room. “My, my, look at that. A really boring person who wants to share meaningless anecdotes for a couple hours. Guess I’ll go join him.” He nodded at Karen. “Wanna come?”

  “Unequivocally.”

  They walked away from Sylvia. Tim was pleased to note out of the corner of his eye that she was immediately accosted by Frank and his License of the Gods.

  “Hey, Tim,” said Michael, another one of his old co-workers. “I just had the last pig-in-a-blanket. Best I’ve ever tasted. Did you get a chance to try them?”

  Tim just shook his head and turned away before he could break any of the state, local, and federal laws prohibiting homicide.

  Karen didn’t seem to notice his frustration. “So, Tim, are you dating anybody

  at this current juncture?”

  “Nah.”

  Karen smiled. “How about dinner and a movie?”

  Tim blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “On Tuesday the Clayzell Theatre is projecting Threads of the Noose. It will be

  subtitled and won’t make any sense to those unfamiliar with French literature from the late 1700s, but it will be a unique experience.”

  “Oh…uh…okay…what time?”

  “I believe the film starts at eight. What’s today, Saturday? I’ll be visiting my mother for a pair of days, but I’ll telephone you when I get back and we’ll set something up. Sound good?”

  Karen cracked her knuckles. Tim knew deep within his soul that it wasn’t meant to be an intimidating gesture, but that knowledge didn’t stop his blood from running cold.