Jane, Vegas PI

by Jane Brooke

  It tastes like honey and burnt copper. He moans something in Swahili. Just kidding as he warps his hands around the back of my noggin. He guides his cock towards my mouth, which being no dummy, is wide open. I mean really wide open.

  Up and down, back and up, around and around I go.

  Never, REALLY, have I tasted or felt anything so stoned cold wonderful.

  Un-able to prevent myself, I am me after all, and forgetting all those good manners things I read in all of those books, I then swallow his cock whole. Balls pressed against my small chin; all the way down my throat it goes.

  Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle. Thank God I’ve had my tonsils out.

  Waiting for him to kick me out because I am a banal heathen tramp, he does not.

  Thank God, as he moans as PARUMP, PARUMP his cock keeps sluicing out of my throat, ending up at my lips. And, then like a Welsh coal miner, down, down, down he goes again.

  I am secretly glad he’s not mad at me and apparently likes the slut that I am.

  It’s hard to keep track of time when you’re insane. A lot of time passed as I could feel his cock expanding, filling with blood.

  Oh goody, goody, goody. I murmured to myself.

  But he knew it was time, and I guess he didn’t want to cum.

  Are there really such gentlemen like that? I guess so?

  So, he pulled out.

  I can’t ever remember that happening before.

  You know. I promise I won’t come in your mouth thing guys say.

  And then some dick weed spills the entire load in your cunt or yap or on your tits and you’re the gal that has to clean the entire ball of crap up later.

  Anyhooo, he stood back, smiled, didn’t seem to mind the drool falling down my chin. I know I didn’t. The fact that I was such a slut, which apparently he didn’t mind either was nice too.

  Gosh, I really got lucky this time and maybe I will start praying to that gold Latina cross I I’m wearing right now.

  NEVER.

  Soooo moving right along, he wrapped his arms around my back, lifts me to a sitting position. Wincing in pain, he tilted his head at me.

  “Please, take no notice to my pain Ike. It’s a part of me.”

  WHEW.

  He understands, that is who I am.

  I place one arm around his neck, the other clutching his dick, for dear life. He smiles and God there are those white teeth again. Like a weigh a gram of salt, he effortlessly begins to lift me into the air.

  Being insanely thin has its advantages.

  I allow my legs to dangle as I jilt as spasms of pain shoot through my hips, muscles, limbs. He is sitting, back against the iron rungs of the bed stead, legs strung out on the sheets. He lifts me like I am nothing. I feel like I am constructed of ribbons, light and of air currents. His power is undeniable.

  I wince, moan in hurt, pleasure as he guides me onto his lap, his fingers stretching my formless legs, tiny nothing butt around his waist. My hands are holding that beautiful skull of his, smelling his breath; that breathe.

  Floor # 3 please. I almost giggle.

  He lowers me onto his cock, filling me, stretching me, engorging me, pain everywhere.

  I throw my blonde back, shudder and moan. My fingers wrap harder around his powerful neck, my head jerks back further. I shake my head back and forth violently like some crazed dog bitch trying to rid water from its fur.

  I moan as trembles, tiny orgasms strike my dormant cunt from and from so many different traumas hitting my body at the moment.

  Fuck, what is happening to me? I feel like I am being split apart, mended back together at the same time.

  I swoon, groan and tremble all over as he pulls me into his scars, his chest against breasts, what is left of them before I became emaciated.

  My face is close to his sculptors face. He does not move, just kissing, breathing pungent flowers on my egret, arched neck with those lips, those amazing lips. I feel the tip of his cock pressing against the inner ending of my now so beautiful tummy.

  Of course I can barely move. I feel as if a paper marionette that has had its strings cut.

  No power in my legs, yet he controls me so easily, vice grips cinched to butt and my boy hips. Controlled, I love it as he slowly allows me to move, grind the best I can.

  I am a white string wrapped around a black gift. His hands, long iron fingers, powerful lift my butt.

  Up and down, ascent, decent, up, down and all around.

  Each time a strike of pain rips through my body. I am a power provocateur, but not now, not here. I am the girl again, something I lost many years ago.

  Minutes pass, maybe hours, as I throw my head back, rant, scream as I climax over and over.

  Ripping my hands into his head, I center his face, gawk at him, inhale deep, whip my blond head back and forth drops of sweat glistening in the candle light.

  Leering at him, I feel like a wild jackal with a taste of the kill in my throat.

  I stare into his crazed yet controlled eyes, crush my lips to his, sharing saliva, tongues, avoiding the tears spilling down both of our faces. He’s not scared of me, WHEW. That mostly never happens with a man after they get to know me.

  My entire body feels as if it has ruptured, steel pins grinding against stainless steel rods and screws and I-Beams.

  He lifts me high, his knob swooshing out of my cunt, his hands supporting me under my arms. My legs and feet are limp as he flips me like a pancake onto my tummy. So many things are twisting in my body. I feel my pleasure and pain melding into orgasms.

  I semi-wail as I feel some hidden, late arriving climax again hit me hard.

  That is an aftershock as my body almost vibrates out of control. His powerful hands wrap around my heaving tummy steady me as he lifts me. I am now semi suspended on my fists and knees as the top of my feet grace the sheets.

  I have never felt so marvelously helpless, controlled, protected, soooo turned on.

  I feel his breath on my neck, his teeth gently layered their as he enters my vagina from the back, tip first. Slow, how it even fits so far is a miracle to me.

  Maybe I will become a Catholic, they believe in that kinda hocus pocus, miracle stuff?

  He is patient, waits for me to pretend denial. Which I do not, for I am mumbling nonsense, some gurgle through chattering teeth, bitten lips, my fingernails tearing at the sheets, my teeth too chewing at them.

  I want it, all of it, every inch of it, and this he gets it. Did he ever.

  So, through the early morning he proceeded to radically fuck the Radon out of my head.

  I mean for a long, long time he fucked me. It was hard to keep track of time when your head has become a human slinky, banging against the bed rails. You know, while some lover hammers you’re cunt like he actually cares about you instead of being a singular receptacle for his semen.

  After multiple orgasms, I came back, both of us drenched in sweat. Moving right along, I heard weeping gushes of air and cries as they exploded out from my drooling lips as he entered me to the hilt.

  “Ooooooh’s and Aaaaaahs.” Screamed out of my mouth during most of it.

  I think I even reverted back to Italian a couple of times. Will ask him about that later.

  Because I am insatiable and know a good thing when I have it, I never complained as he kept pushing, deep, deeper still.

  Fuck was that even possible? Apparently it was.

  Completely out of mind, I did my best as I lunged back, best I could as my lying mouth kept screaming no and my cunt was creaming, yes, telling him that he is right on track, and please do not stop.

  He did not.

  My body bucks, spasms, climaxes, again. I can barely breathe and feel completely mad.

  I blush, crashing pain raining in every joint, bone a
nd sinew too, in my cunt as well.

  I almost pass out from the white lightening sparks shooting through my temples.

  Completely encased by hands, cock and what ever the fuck is going on in his mind, I go rigid. My spine is bent, tummy bellowing, face pressed against my collar bones, screaming, gushing and climaxing over and over again.

  How many times this time, I do not know.

  How many toothpicks does it take to make the Eiffel Tower? That was the kind of fuzzy math sizzling through my head.

  He is rough and a savage, a tender man. Just when I think that I can take no more, but not really, no complaints from this doll he continues, all the time asking me in my ear if I am OK.

  Whoever rips up a winning Lotto ticket once won? Not this Mensa member.

  “Ooooooooh....Yeeeeees....Pleeeeeas...Do anything you want to meeee. Don’t stop....Ooooooh.”

  I think he was waiting for me to cry uncle.

  Not me by golly.

  Between breaths of life, a drink of water, thank you Ike I then feel his dick, the ridges, its girth, a magic wand of pleasure when wielded by a tender man of little words wooosh out of me.

  I am so tiny I felt every artery, vein, every one of them inside me expanding making me smile, remembering my wish for a pneumatic air hammer attack earlier. Well wishes at times do come true.

  Wishes, prayers are funny things, meaning, well you know I am praying he has not forgotten my anus.

  Bingo and right on cue, I feel his cock dancing around my ass hole.

  “OK.” He asks.

  With beads of sweat flying off of my blonde, I stutter. “Ooooh, yes...Pleeeease.”

  Something is dripping down my thighs, me, not him. He presses the tip of the penis along that amazing rubber ring, waits for me to protest. None from me bye golly, as he enters me.

  Plop, tip in now, no protest and, then all the way in he slides it, stretching my insides so wonderfully, painfully I almost break out singing in Latin as the pain granulates my insides into tiny liquid droplets of orgasmic cum.

  He found the magic button, oh yes he did.

  He takes his fists, doesn’t ask and plunges it inside my vagina. I scream as my body loses control, vibrates wildly. I whip my head up, down. I am impaled from everywhere, dick in my ass, his fist inside of me, me chewing a hole in his pillow.

  I will go to Wal-Mart and buy him a new pillow case tomorrow.

  My mind all most blacks out, sparks pain and pleasure cracking in my brain. I climax over and over and, then wail again.

  Time passes, hours I guess, back to earth, still my knees have hardly touched the black sheets from the depth of his fist, and still he drives harder. My breath between massive gulps goes yip, yip, yip like a terrier bitch in heat. And, then I feel his breathing intensifying.

  Then his entire body slams hard against me, driving his dick entirely inside of me. Screaming, I rake my head back and forth, white fists clawing at the black sheets. I scream again as we both climaxes together as he rips his fist out of my cunt.

  Not a single ounce of pain now, there’s those pesky endorphins again. He has rewired my joints, plumbing and organs within orgasms as I feel hot his semen fill my ass, sending me into a tizzy as he lays me on the bed.

  He softly lay’s on top of me, his dick, far, far still inside my ass, his sweat mingling with my own. Did I mention it is all warm and cozy in his loft, just like my ass feel’s. It is so hot that the inside of it feels as if someone has just ladled molten honey into it.

  A moment passes, as does my breath. My heart begins to calm as he ever so gently slides to the side of the bed. He allows his cock to drain out of my ass and silent, very silent, he spoons me, one arm across my pink belly. His aquiline sharp jaw is nestled into the cleft of my neck, his breathing slowing.

  He smells like sex, sweat, love, an animal like, like me. He is so beautiful and tender. I feel tears welling as I hold his head in my hands. I feel his warm tears mixing along my neck, trailing down, pooling near my collar bones.

  Yet still, he is a quiet man and my body simply said, is glowing. There is a most lovely pain free hum generating off of it. His eyes open, and he whispers to me in that accent of his.

  “Jane, you are most beautiful women I ever seen, know.

  Moi. Me? I do not whisper.

  I am stunned, blush, I am tongue tied for the first time in my smart mouthed life.

  He closes his eyes and drifts to sleep. I am holding his magnificent skull along my fingers, not happy per-say for that would be something shallow within a cataclysmic moment in time.

  I cannot sleep of course as the morning moves slow towards dawn. In the middle of the morning hours I glance to my left and see something and it is cast in shadows and moon beams from the full moon. The storm has stopped as I quietly move his head to the pillow.

  Swinging my legs from the bed, bare feet tap dancing on the wooden planks, I wince in pain. I want to scream, for the pain has returned. But, I don’t, gritting my teeth through it all. I struggle to my footsies.

  WOW.

  Multiple days of being whacked around, one way or the other, well, it’s been a hoot, but I have double vision. It clears, and I can’t take my eye’s from what I think is silhouetted of some piece of granite he had been slaving over with his great chisel.

  Thinking of the chisel makes me giggle. I swallow them.

  I count down from three, and would really rather do the-snuggle thing with him. But, I’m a feline. You know, curiosity and I must see what is over there.

  Three, two, one.

  I’m moving and so far I haven’t fallen on my mug. Good.

  The room spins, the agony raking my lower extremities is so intense I almost loose consciousness. He has morphined me with sex, I guess love too.

  I think of Gumbo and Stella and I am positive I fed them; strange thoughts, those of love. And now the sex anesthetic has run away, and I almost vomit my body pain is so intense. It is erotically so wonderful I pray that it will never leave my body

  It passes, partially, it’ always does. So, ankle hurting limp across the loft.

  Moving to an angle I gasp as my eyes bolt open. I am waiting for them to acclimate to the moon light and shadows and, then they focus. I gasp again and close them, open them and gawk at what is before me.

  On the pedestal in white marble is a bust of me. It is elegant, a master piece of my face, eyes, soul, my soul and its looks as if I were recreated right there before me. It is white. I am so white, my head on his pedestal, my face created from his memory.

  It is as if my heart is in his body, his cock inside of me warming me still, his amazing warm lips still kissing me. He is a genius and, I feel tears beginning, saline, bountiful and beautiful spilling down my cheeks.

  I begin to weep, simply struck with awe at his talent and his pain of having such a savant talent and the vision to create me from memory.

  I begin to shake. I am so over come by all of this. I cannot support my self any longer and begin to tumble. Then, his brutal fingers wrap around my waist, and he lifts me so easily. He wraps his arms around my tummy, presses his body against mine, pressing his lips against my ears. I feel his breath on my neck.

  Reaching back, I wrap my finger along the back of his skull. I peek at him as he hugs me tighter, supporting me, dispelling my grief, me knowing that in those arms no harm could ever besiege me and, then he whispers in that African/British accent.

  “I have loved you from moment that I first see you. If there is beauty more than you, I no have seen it. Come beauty, we talk more about all after we sleep. In morning we will eat. Come now, come to bed with me.”

  OH MY GOD, gosh, gee, golly. Love at first sight. LOVE. Huh? That’s just great. Me beautiful? No, no, no, yes, yes, yes, this is not me. Or is it?

  OMG, FUC
K.

  What if he wants me to make breakfast for him later?

  Guess I could borrow some eggs, some toast from Chang and maybe one of those Wisk things too.

  STOP. Get it together.

  I’m exhausted.

  Go with it. Figure out the damage later. Whew. Good Idea amongst a host of bad ones.

  I am without words, for there are none. I am thunder struck, frail now.

  I feel as perhaps, as a woman might be at times when feeling safe with a man. When in a giant’s arms, a man of no ego, rift with genius and humility.

  He lifts me in his arms, and my useless legs dangle. My blubbering face is caught within the cleft of his neck. My Lillie’s are wrapped around his broad shoulders. Moving me back to the sheets, he lays me down so gently. I feel no pain. He tucks a single black sheet under my quivering chin, leans down and kisses me. Quietly he moves along side of me, and lays a single hand along my breasts.

  In moments he is asleep.

  Of course I am satiated, tired, magnificent, and so I close my eyes, resting in his arms.

  I feel his breathing, it is melodic, his power calms me and sleep comes and as I slept there were no memories of pain, nor nightmares of Missy and I did not dream.

  Whilst I dreamed those words kept willowing through my brain. They were:

  What in the fuck am I going to do now?

  XXX

  The beginnings of summer have returned and it is not yet a hundred zillion degrees in Las Vegas. It is maybe 85, soft breezes as a month has passed, and the Sun is yellow.

  I am sitting at my window seat bare foot, in my loft, smiling at the black man across the way, slashing his heart, mind against a massive slab of black marble.

  It is a commission he has received from a London gallery. It will be placed along a park near The Wharfs. It is where ships come and go. Great ships have always been apart of London’s soul, as he is of me now.

  Well, so far, so good. We’re kinda inseparable, best friends, artists in collusion of a real life, a conspiracy of sex, respect, dignity and of course love. Not that kind of stifling love.

  No cheap, meaningless soap opera love, a diamond is forever crap.