by james
He worked his way down past her belly and began to kiss her inner thighs. He looked at her shaved pussy, which she knew had to be glistening, and smiled.
She smiled back.
“Are you comfy?” he asked.
“Very much so.”
“Good.”
He lowered his face between her legs and gently kissed her vagina. She wrapped her legs around his back and raised herself, trying to convey the message that perhaps gentle kisses were not what she was seeking at this juncture.
He got the point and began licking her, back and forth across the surface.
“Oh that’s good that’s real good don’t stop,” she blurted out.
Tim licked her pussy all over, moaning softly as he did it. He kneaded her thighs for a while, and then used his fingers to part her further, his tongue probing more deeply.
Melody sucked in a deep breath.
She closed her eyes and let Tim give her his full attention with his glorious, generous tongue. Though he didn’t strike her as the kind of guy who had a great deal of experience, he seemed to know exactly what he was doing. She just lay there, loving every sensation he was bringing to her.
Then she started to get hungry for his cock again.
Melody was pretty sure she knew a way to take care of that little problem.
“Lie on your back,” she told him.
Tim did so without protest. She crawled on top of him, head facing his extremely firm cock, and took him into her mouth as she settled her pussy on his face. His tongue resumed its exuberant motion as she sucked on him.
Ah, yes. Best of both worlds, even if it was a bit difficult to maintain full concentration.
Tim’s hands roamed to her buttocks, squeezing them.
She sucked him rapidly, almost frantically.
As his tongue moved to her clitoris, she nearly screamed. Melody tried to sustain the blowjob, but she needed to keep her mouth free for the necessary gasping and moaning.
She pushed against him more firmly, and his hands tightened on her buttocks. His tongue moved vigorously over her clitoris, sending shivers through her and paving the way for another really sensational…
“Oh, God, I’m gonna come…”
And she did. Hard. She pressed her face into Tim’s legs and howled. He kept licking as she coasted through her entire orgasm.
Finally she rolled off of him. She tried to think of something romantic,
something deeply special to say to him.
“Let’s fuck.”
“Okay.”
“Where do you keep your condoms?”
Oh, shit, what if he didn’t have condoms? That’s something he would have mentioned on the way back to his apartment, right? They’d passed a few
convenience stores. Surely he didn’t expect her to—
“In the top drawer of the bed stand on your side.”
Moments later he was covered, and she mounted him. She was so incredibly wet that she took him all the way in without any resistance, gasping with pleasure. She fucked him slowly and deeply, eyes closed, his hands on her breasts.
“You feel so good,” he moaned.
“Likewise.”
She refused to pick up the pace for several minutes, just loving the feel of him so deep inside of her. Her whole body was covered with perspiration. When she opened her eyes, he was looking at their joined bodies, watching her pussy slide up and down on his cock.
“Nice view, huh?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah.”
She picked up the pace.
Tim moved his right hand away from her breast and used his thumb to
stroke her clitoris as she bounced.
She really picked up the pace.
Before too long they were fucking madly, the bedsprings creaking, the headboard bouncing against the wall. His neighbors were either going to be seriously pissed or thank him for the free entertainment.
His thumb moved more rapidly, and Melody cupped her breasts and worked the nipples herself. That did it. She fucked him even harder as the wonderful rush began to build up yet again.
She covered her mouth with her palm to keep from letting out an evictioncausing scream as she came. Tim followed her seconds later, thrusting into her with amazing force. Melody fell on top of him as they both shuddered and moaned in unrestrained sexual bliss.
They lay that way for a long moment, and then Tim retreated to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. He returned quickly, and they lay in each other’s arms, saying nothing.
Fifteen minutes later, they were ready for another round, and Melody found herself lying on her back, legs spread wide, as Tim thrust into her missionarystyle. They shifted to doggy style, and finally came together doing it in a spooning position.
Fifteen minutes after that, he bent her over the side of the bed and fucked her from behind, thrusting so hard that she nearly shoved the mattress off the bed. Then they went back to the spooning position, which had been rather nice.
Fifteen minutes after that, they fell asleep, with Melody’s face cradled in his shoulder.
CHAPTER SIX
SUNDAY
Alex Dalant yawned sleepily, rolled over, and smacked his face against the wall. It kind of hurt. After two months of sharing Melody’s king-sized bed, going back to this single bed was going to require a period of adjustment.
He sat up, yawned again, and wondered for the eight hundred and seventythird time since Friday if he’d done the right thing by leaving her.
Sure he had.
Possibly.
No, definitely.
No, not definitely, but probably.
Maybe.
Definitely maybe.
There was a knock at his door. “Sweetie? Are you up?”
“Yeah, Mom.”
“Would you like some eggs and bacon? We have ketchup.”
“Yeah, I’ll be right down.”
Alex swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, trying to shake the depressed feeling. He wasn’t sure where it was coming from. It couldn’t be because he was back in his old room, because he had one hell of a cool room. He hadn’t stayed here for more than a night at a time since graduating from high school, and had forgotten just how much cool stuff he’d left here. The electronic baseball game. The karaoke machine. The complete set of Captain Hocker action figures. Very, very cool stuff.
But he missed Melody, and not just because she was the second-best fuck of his life. He couldn’t quite figure out how he could miss somebody who never paid him much attention, but it was the truth. Maybe he should never have left.
No, he definitely should have left. He wasn’t going to be some starved-for-attention puppy dog. He wasn’t going to try and get her to take him back. He didn’t want her to take him back. He’d find somebody else to give him the attention he deserved. There were other women out there who’d give him sex and affection.
“Sweetie! Your eggs are almost done!”
“I’ll be right there, Mom!”
What he needed to do was just go crazy for a while. Hit the clubs. Become a stud machine gun. Live life to its fullest. Of course, he’d need a new bed, but he’d worry about that later. He’d make up for everything he was lacking during his time with Melody.
But his first priority was to bring Melody back into his life, as a friend. He still cared about her, and it made him sick to his stomach to think that things had ended on such an ugly note. He wasn’t going to throw himself at her feet and grovel, but he’d put forth a nice apology and see what happened.
Moving out had been the right choice.
Probably.
* * * * *
Melody found herself unable to write. She sat in front of her computer and tried her best to make the words flow, but it wasn’t happening. She kept replaying last night’s events over and over in her mind. Not just the sex, but the kisses, from the one where their lips barely touched to that one where his tongue did that quick little spiral on her lower l
ip. The quick little spiral one was probably her favorite. She replayed it once more. Yep, that was her favorite, all right. Of course, there was also the one where they kissed so passionately that she expected a suction cup sound when their lips parted…
She didn’t even need her Happy Tape any more. She was a woman in love.
Love, love, love.
Let’s hear it for love!
Three cheers for love!
Okay, she needed to do something super-special for Tim before she saw him again. Make sure he knew exactly how much she’d enjoyed last night. Let him know that to be with her was to be showered with affection like never before in his life.
Hmmmmm…
She could break into his apartment and decorate it with heart-shaped balloons and other romantic stuff. The downside to this plan was the risk that she might get caught and spend the night in jail. But she could frame the mug
shot and give it to him as a memento of her adoration of him.
No, no, no, no, no.
If she decorated his apartment, he might think she was some kind of obsessive lunatic. She’d scare him away. Men were very sensitive to that kind of thing, what with all the psycho-bitch-from-hell movies out there. She didn’t want him thinking he had to propose before Monday morning to avoid having her burn his photograph in an attic lit by hundreds of candles while chanting voodoo curses.
She needed to do something simple.
Simple yet creative.
Hmmmmm…
* * * * *
“Flowers?”
“No, too generic.”
“Crotchless panties?”
Tim glared at Peter. “I’m being serious, you know.”
“So am I. It’s not like I said to go out and buy her a pair of crotchless edible
panties. That would be tacky.” “You’re absolutely no help. And you’re burning that chicken.” Peter looked down and hurriedly moved the chicken breast off the open
flame. “I snapped at Carl last night for doing the same thing. You’re making me look bad, bro.”
“Sorry. I just don’t know what I should get her. I would get her chocolates, but I’m not sure if she’s on a diet. Aren’t most women on diets? I don’t want to mess with that.”
“How about low-fat chocolates?”
Tim thought about that for a moment. “Maybe.”
There was a sudden sharp pain as Peter slapped him upside the head. “Never
give a woman low-fat chocolates! That’s a good way to get yourself killed, bro!” “Got it.” Tim barely resisted the urge to slap him back. “What have you bought other women after your first dates?” “Nothing. That’s the whole point. I want to make up for past errors. I want to
be more romantic this time.” “Romantic, huh? Maybe she’d like a nice pet tarantula to help inspire her
writing. They’re not that expensive.” “I’m not getting her a tarantula.” “Fine. Be an unromantic iceberg.” Peter turned another piece of chicken over
on the grill and sprinkled some seasoning on it. “I don’t know why I even talk to you.” “I don’t know either. I guess you’re practicing for when your real brother
shows up.” Tim sighed and walked into the back room. Those order forms from last night were never filled out, so he sat down at the table and picked up his pen. Maybe flowers weren’t such a bad idea, if he thought of an original way to deliver them. There were plenty of options.
Via carrier pigeon?
No, no, he was thinking in Peter-idiot mode now. This was serious business. What could he do to show Melody how much she meant to him?
Take out a huge personal ad in the newspaper?
No. Lame.
Order a singing telegram?
No. Lamer.
Perform a singing telegram himself?
No. Frightening.
A skywriter?
Maybe.
“Do you think skywriters charge a flat fee or is it on a per-letter basis?” he called out to Peter.
“I think a skywriter is a bit excessive for a first date,” Peter responded from the kitchen. “You don’t want to scare her off.”
“I don’t think that will happen.” Tim realized that no fewer than three members of his staff were trying to pretend they weren’t listening for crucial details regarding his love life, so he abandoned his desk and walked back into the kitchen. “She doesn’t scare easily,” he told Peter. “And we really, really hit it off well. Well enough that I think a skywriter might be appropriate. What should
I have it say?”
Peter shook his head. “Listen, bro, you don’t want to get carried away.”
“I’m serious, Peter, the sparks were flying like you wouldn’t believe! It was incredible! I’ve never even come close to feeling this way about somebody so quickly. I need to show her what she did to me.”
Peter leaned forward. “Okay, let me ask you a question. One year from now do you want her asking ‘Honey, sweetums, how come you never hire skywriters for me anymore?’ Don’t start something you can’t sustain.”
“Do you want a suggestion?” asked Lyle. The twenty-year-old dishwasher stood at the cutting table, slicing some green peppers.
Tim looked over at him. “Oh, hi, Lyle. I didn’t even notice you were over there.”
“I know,” said Lyle in his low monotone. “Most people don’t. With some assistance I’m gradually dealing with it.”
“What’s your suggestion?”
Lyle looked thoughtful. “A few years ago, back when I was in high school and not working sixty-five hours a week at three jobs to earn enough money to go to some crappy community college, I sat behind this girl in American History. Her name was Sue, and she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Eyes like sapphire ice. Smooth, unblemished skin. Wonderful hair that went from blonde to red in alternating months. And a smile that could rock the earth, sink ships, start wars, and end famine. She was simply amazing.”
Lyle paused to sigh wistfully. “Like everyone else, she barely knew I existed. The only time she ever acknowledged me was on those rare occasions when the teacher counted out enough copies of a quiz to pass down the row that she had to turn around and give me one. For the most part I just sat behind her unnoticed, fantasizing about the back of her head.”
Peter turned his attention back to the chicken now burning on the grill. “I’ve got food to cook, so I’m gonna get back to work. Let me know what idea you decide on, Tim.”
Lyle looked at Tim. “Should we pretend that I meant for my story to end there?”
“No, no, please continue.”
“I’d continue better if you let me have a beer on the job.”
“I don’t think so.”
“It relaxes me. It’s not like I’m driving or anything. What kind of damage could I do by getting a little buzz?” Lyle sliced another piece of the green pepper and became aware that he was holding an extremely sharp knife. “I mean, to others?”
“I have a lot of important thinking to do, so if you’re not going to share your affection suggestion, I need to—”
“Okay, okay, so Sue was ignoring me. For a whole year I sat back there, wanting nothing more than to be able to talk to her, to say ‘Psst, what did you get for question #6?’ or ‘Did you notice that Mrs. Denkle spits whenever she says the letter P?’ But it wasn’t happening. I might as well have been her trigonometry book for all the attention she paid me.
“Then, all of a sudden, I’d had enough. It was the week before graduation, so I figured the most humiliation I’d have to suffer was five days plus a few hours at reunions. And I knew exactly what I was going to do. I was going to write her a poem.”
“A poem.” Tim tried but failed to work up much enthusiasm for the concept.
“That’s right.” Lyle reached into his pocket and took out a folded piece of paper. “This poem.”
“You have it with you?”
“Yeah. It’s not the original—it doesn’t have Sue’s name on it or anythi
ng. I
usually go clubbing after work, so I keep it with me just in case.”
“That’s…” Tim spent a few seconds searching for the proper word, “…grotesque.”
“Let me read it to you.” Lyle unfolded the paper. “You can’t use it word-for-word, but maybe it’ll inspire you to write something close.”
“This really isn’t necessary.”
“Yes it is. I want you to be happy. Then you’ll know how I’ll feel when I’m allowed to drink beer at work.” He cleared his throat and began to read. “‘Oh, Sue,’…though it doesn’t really say ‘Sue’ on here, you’d just put in the name of the person you’re dedicating it to. What’s your girlfriend’s name?”
“Melody.”
“Damn, three syllables. Well, we can work around that. ‘Oh Melody, your heart is my heart. Your skin is my skin. Your bones are my bones. I see through your eyes. I hear through your ears. I touch with your fingers—”
“You know, that’s just creepy.” Tim shivered. “I’ll come up with my own ideas, but thanks.”
“Fine, whatever.” Lyle stuffed the poem back into his pocket. “You can make fun of me all you want, but I gave this poem to Sue, and on graduation night my
fantasy came true. I boned her.”
“Really?”
“That’s right. Yeah, she was totally plastered and thought I was somebody
else, but I’ll always have her panties to remind me of that wonderful night.” Lyle went back to cutting vegetables.
Somehow Tim didn’t feel inspired.
Maybe Peter was right. Something simple. Chocolates. There was nothing wrong with following tradition. He’d buy her some chocolates and invite her out to a really late lunch. Perfect!
* * * * *
Melody was looking positively luminous as Tim entered the Italian restaurant, a heart-shaped box of chocolates under his arm. He sat across from her in the booth and slid the box toward her.
“Hi, gorgeous, these are for you. They’re maximum fat.”
“Thank you.”
Melody appeared uncomfortable. Tim was about to ask her what was wrong, and then he noticed a large gift sack, brightly colored with a ribbon attached to the front, resting on the table. “Is that for me?”