Body Wisdom & Uncompromising Portraits

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  “Ah Jess,” he groaned beneath me. He was asking for things for himself, unexpectedly. I replied readily, glad to give to him, when he’d asked for so little before. I liked watching the expression on his face when I teetered at the tip of his probing cock, doing a delicate dance with my cunt lips. “Oh, god yes, Jessie, more.”

  When he suddenly came, I was shocked. I rode him hard because he was so wild. Squeezing him at the moment of climax only made his passionate yell all the more rousing. And with the orgasm over, he collapsed back exhausted.

  “Couldn’t you hold on?” I joked, as I fell against his chest.

  He ran his hand through my hair. “You’re too good,” he answered. “And I was so damned horny.”

  We were so close, lips close, eyes close, body on body, his swaying gently under mine, I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

  “Like my surprise?” he asked.

  “I love your surprise,” I said.

  “Well then, you can stay the night in my bed. This room needs some hard fucking to christen it.”

  He just assumed I would stay, but that was all right with me. As long as he made my sexual decisions for me, hell, I’d do anything he said. But damn, why was I this easy with him?

  After the first sex was over, we laid back against the quilt and let the sticky heat around us cool down with the breeze from the open window. The fan overhead went around, and the air circulating against my body made me shudder, goosebumps popping out everywhere. After his exhausting climax, he demanded I orgasm twice before he’d let me rest. “You need to cum lots, you get pent-up prissy otherwise.”

  “Oh, you think so?” I said. “You seem to think you know me well.”

  “I do. You need sex to counter the rest of your life,” he went on.

  “Like the librarian part?” I asked.

  “Yeah, like the librarian part.”

  “You have a problem with my job, don’t you?” I asked.

  “Don’t you?” he said.

  “No.”

  He stared off into space while I watched him. He still didn’t like me being a librarian. I suppose it was much too unoriginal for the rebel in him.

  “Why are you here in Shelter Bay?” I asked him, changing the subject. He had answered this question other ways, now I wanted the real answer. He didn’t fit here and we both knew it. But still, he didn’t answer.

  “C’mon Kurt, you ask me everything, make judgments about my life, and tell me what to do. I get no probing questions of my own?”

  “Ask all you want, I just won’t answer,” he told me.

  “Don’t you go getting touchy with me,” I said, wondering if he was really annoyed, or just playing around. “Some woman hurt you?”

  He still stared into the ceiling.

  I looked up to see what was so interesting there. It was admittedly quite a piece of craftsmanship, the natural wood ceiling shot out with beams in a sunburst pattern. I could study it too, while I waited for him to speak.

  “We were married a year,” he finally said. “She didn’t want to keep the baby, so she split.”

  “You have a baby?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I nodded. This wasn’t easy for him to say, and I could appreciate his reluctance. There was a lot of pain behind his silence.

  “So, is that ALL of your past?” I wondered aloud.

  “No, but you only get a piece at a time, because that’s the only way I’ll tell it.”

  I expected he had a very sordid past, while he probably thought I was some lily-white virgin until I was twenty five, and never screwed around recklessly the way he probably had.

  “I got pregnant once too,” I told him. “But there was no baby. It was a blighted ovum. At the time, I wasn’t sure what I was losing, but I was really glad I didn’t have to make a decision. I’m surprised you want children,” I added, as an afterthought.

  “Why? Because I wear my hair like this and go barefoot all the time?” His comment sounded like an accusation.

  “No,” I replied. “How come you’re so testy?’’

  He shrugged and pulled me close to him as he kissed me deeply, and ran his rough hand over my naked rear end. We didn’t speak again for another hour.

  He was rougher yet making love, more intent, seized by something dark that poured from him to me. Regardless of his style, I couldn’t stop responding to his touch. He had the ability to provoke places in me I’d never found sexual before, like the insides of my thighs when he nibbled them, and places around my arms that turned erogenous within seconds of a single probe. He ran a finger down my back and I thought the orgasm would begin right there. When he reached my anal cleft he was probing my anus, the tight place not wanting to give, but giving regardless because something in me wanted to agree to everything he asked of me. I took his cock in my mouth again, and later he ate the doorway to my crotch, planting his mouth dangerously on my clit and about my hole. The way he used his teeth, biting softly to increase the sensations, I knew the entire time he was one step away from causing real pain—but then that never occurred. Just at the edge, he wanted sex on the delicate edge just one step from too much.

  When he entered me the second time that night, he was behind me as we were lying on our sides. With his chest and groin pressed to my back I had the feel of being used, so anonymous it disturbed me. But that was only half the feeling, the other side of me loved that anonymous use. I knew that by the sustained edge of sexual hunger gnawing in my belly. I clamored for an orgasm, wanting every second of his efficient lovemaking hands doing these bizarre things with my body. I’d handle my uneasiness later.

  When he jolted against me, he was silent. Unlike his other orgasms, this was something very different, and it was strange the way the sunlight faded just as he was tripping over the edge. When his body relaxed against my back, his hand reached around and played with my clitoris. By feeling alone, he had my smoldering cunt peaking quickly. And I came as quietly, though not as ferociously, as he had.

  Chapter Two

  I heard the sound of the bike roaring up to the library. It was becoming familiar, the noise not annoying me anymore. It was five o’clock, so I dashed outside quickly, locked the door, and with a few brisk steps, I was on the sidewalk next to him.

  “Get on,” he said, with a gleeful grin.

  “Now? On your bike?” I questioned him.

  “Yeah, get on.”

  I was scared to death. “But this skirt,” I protested.

  “Be daring, I’m not going to care.”

  “I’m scared,” I told him sincerely.

  “Then it’s time to get over it,” he announced. He stepped off the bike and helped to hoist me over the seat. Drawing up my skirt, he tucked it well out of the way, and then got on himself.

  “We’ll get you some leather pants, Jess,” he said in the middle of gunning the engine.

  I held on to him so tight, I thought I might squeeze the breath from his lungs. We were roaring around the winding hills, going to the top of the mountain. The wind in my face made my eyes tear, so I shut them, and breathed in the feeling of freedom, as the air hit my cheeks with its pounding fury. I tried not to think too much about what I was doing, pushing from my mind the vow that I’d never be caught dead riding a motorcycle.

  And yet, I knew instantly why women like the feel of a bike vibrating their crotch, it was arousing, as was hanging on to Kurt for dear life, and feeling his ass end pressed against me.

  At the top of the hill, we stopped and dismounted. Still shaking from the ride, I stepped away from the bike, a little reluctant to be close to it.

  “Boy do you have a good grip. You practically crushed a rib,” he said laughing.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You were scared, weren’t you?”

  Apparently I was as white as a ghost.

  He pulled me close, holding me against his leather clad body, as his dancing eyes looked down at me with a worried expression. “Better get you used to t
his if you’re going to be with me,” he said as he stroked my face.

  “I’m working on it,” I assured him. “You said leather pants?” His hand dropped down to play freely with my motorcycle warmed bottom. “It does make me horny.”

  “I can tell. You like the power,” he said nodding to the bike.

  “Yeah, I do. And you look pretty damned good riding it.”

  “So do you,” he said with eyebrows raised.

  He was descending on me with an open mouth, and hands that were ready to make love to me right on the hilltop, out in the open, without one concern over who might stumble on the scene. He was brisk, bending me over the seat. I could already feel his cock throbbing underneath the leather pants, pressing its way against my rear end. He pulled away my skirt so it practically flew up over my head, and I could feel the leather seat against my thighs. It was warm, just like everything else, Kurt, me and our lust.

  His cock was rock hard. First finding my cunt with his hand, he thrust against me and I screamed the way he went so deep, cutting me to the hilt as if he would split me in two. A moment later, I was thinking of nothing but getting off, right there in the open. The bike, the touch of leather, the vibrating rhythm of Kurt’s thrusts, and the raucous noises we made were like a defiant cry to an uptight world, and I loved it. My pussy was so juiced I could feel it sticky against my thighs.

  What a wicked fuck ... taken over the seat of his bike, my naked ass waving in the breeze. What was I becoming?

  “Ouch, damn, god yes,” some nonsense fired from my lips.

  “Gawd, I like fucking your cunt,” he moaned, before he slipped into his own oblivion.

  The bike was jerking with the movement, with each thrust stabbing me rudely between the legs. He kept withdrawing and shoving himself back inside, which made an artful massage for my clitoris, though nothing else about it was artful. I must have been pretty raw looking, wriggling myself against his groin like a nasty whore. That’s how I felt, nasty and wicked.

  Kurt made it simple, holding my ass end with a firm grip to each bottom cheek, squeezing so hard, I thought there would be bruises later—though I wouldn’t mind if there were.

  When his orgasm began, he leaned over me and held me as tightly as I’d held him on the bike. With his arms around me, he pressed his hands to my breasts and squeezed them as his cock gave in to the sensations.

  “Ah Jess,” he purred softly as the cum was disappearing and he had the presence of mind to speak. “You have this really raunchy slut inside you.” His words were framed like an accusation and a discovery at the same time. But I wasn’t disagreeing. After all, if I was allowing him this liberty with me, the right to sweep me away and fuck me anywhere he chose, I suppose I deserved to be called a slut. With Kurt, the word was a badge of honor, clearly a compliment. And for Jessie, the librarian at thirty-eight, it was quite a coup.

  Kurt held me for a long time. He rarely pulled away quickly and I liked that. When he finally did, he turned me around and set me on the seat of the bike. My legs were spread and my wet pussy was dripping juice on the leather. He leaned in and kissed my mouth with a wide-open kiss, while his fingers toyed with my clit. He continued to purr nasty things in my ear.

  “You’re such a slut.” He slapped my thigh and went back to my clit.

  “Ah, yes, Kurt,” I hissed in his ear, my arms around him, wiggling on his toying hand.

  He slapped me more on the thigh so there was a red imprint.

  “Yes, make it hurt,” I uttered softly. There was nothing he could have done that wouldn’t have pleased me.

  “Such a fucking slut,” he seethed, so happy to see me letting the steamy side out right there in wide-open spaces. “You want me to keep going?”

  “Oh, don’t stop,” I muttered between deep breaths. I swayed against his hand, bucking hard to capture every feeling, and then a climax began to ripple everywhere, beginning at my cunt and moving outward. When I was done, I collapsed forward against Kurt’s chest since I had no place else I wanted to be.

  “Ah, you ask so much of me,” I sighed quietly.

  “But it’s what you want,” he assured me, even as his hand was stroking my cheek. He was so tenderly, so thoroughly, in control.

  “So, how about taking off tomorrow for a few days?” he asked me as I continued to come back to myself. We’d moved to a soft grassy place beside the bike, resting. “We’ll go up the coast and knock around.” I was leaning against Kurt while he stroked my back lightly. Hearing his question, I pulled away.

  “You’re closing the shop?” I asked.

  “Yeah, getting restless, need to get out of this place for a while,” he said.

  “Kurt, I can’t just take off and close the library.”

  “Why not? How many people are going to be put out if the library’s closed. Hell, you got an assistant, let her handle it.”

  “She’s a high school student,” I objected.

  He grimaced. “You know, Jess, your spirit of adventure is sorely lacking.”

  “It is NOT lacking. You whisk me away on your bike, fuck me over the back of it broad daylight, and you say my spirit is sorely lacking?” His assertion was irritating.

  “It’s a nice start. But I guess you need to have your adventures in nice safe doses.” He laced his remark with an uncharacteristic sarcasm.

  “Is that really what you think of me?”

  “Sometimes.” He looked at me with a pained expression, I’d seen only a handful of times in the six weeks we’d been dating. They were little winces that irritated me no end. Damn him for trying to pigeon-hole me! I thought.

  “Well, I’m the woman you have right now. If you don’t like it, that’s too bad.” I stood up and walked back to the bike. “You can be restless. I don’t want to be restless. I want peace in my life.”

  “Boredom,” he suggested, as he followed me.

  “No boredom. Peace.” I turned to him and looked him in the face.

  “Yeah, well you’ve got your life nicely under control, don’t you?” he said, still using his sarcasm to drive his digs.

  “Not really, but I’ve made choices, and I like those choices.”

  “And you’ll never try anything else.”

  “That’s not true. I just don’t go running off half cocked here and there on simple whims. You want me to do that. It’s not gonna happen!”

  His face broke out in an amused smile.

  “You’re angry, aren’t you?”

  “You’re pissing me off. Yes,” I agreed.

  He stared at me a long time, as if his eyes were searching for something. All he was going to get of me was what he saw, nothing more. I wasn’t going to try and please him, I wasn’t sure I could.

  “I suppose I’m going to have to get used to you,” he finally conceded. He took me by both hands and drew me close. Pinning my hands to my side, he kissed me. I relinquished, because I was getting used to it feeling so good, but it did seem like a deliberate play for control. And at the moment my hackles were up.

  We rode back less wildly than our trip up, at a nice easy pace, so I relaxed against his back, enjoying the feel of him. As pleasant as it was, I couldn’t help but feel that something was bothering Kurt. I knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t tell me, at least not yet. He probably didn’t even know what was disturbing him, though I suspected that it had a lot to with our last rather prickly conversation.

  ***

  The next morning, I found out my suspicions were right.

  “Hi,” I heard his tentative voice behind me, while I was sitting on the floor, practically standing on my head, trying to reach for a book that was stuck behind the stacks.

  I looked up at his face to see his most bizarre expression staring down at me. Beginning of the end, I immediately thought to myself.

  “I’m taking off for a few days,” he informed me.

  “Okay.” It was hard to come up with a snappy retort, wise remark, or tender appeal, when he was towering over me. K
urt didn’t want me countering his plans. “So, I’ll see you?”

  “Few days.” He was noticeably vague, and certainly not the good-natured man I was used to, even the slightly befuddled one he’d been the night before when I suspected the worst.

  There was no kiss to seal the past, or suggest a future, just a quick smile as he sauntered off. He was wearing tall black boots, and his leather pants, and a black bomber jacket. I’m sure I would have raised my skirt and let him take me on the spot, but he didn’t ask me to. After he was out of sight, I imagined him climbing on the Harley and riding off; and I wondered if I wasn’t foolish not being there behind him.

  Chapter Three

  My feet were sore from a five mile walk with Beth that morning. I soaked them in Epsom salts and put on some soft socks. It was a night to get cozy with myself. I planned to masturbate later, with the pressure of a week without Kurt catching up with me. I missed the sex as much as I missed him.

  Even so, I wasn’t ready for my self-pleasure right away, so I threw on a pair of old sweats, and plunked down in the middle of the kitchen floor with an old chair I’d been wanting to paint for several months. It was a bad sign. Getting around to this meant my love life was suffering and I needed these diversions to keep my mind off sex and men, and especially off Kurt.

  A whole week.

  A lot more than a “few days” in my mind. I walked by his cottage daily seeing the CLOSED sign; it would jolt me in the pit of my stomach, every time. Of course it would probably be worse if he was home, and just not calling me. But his continued absence really confirmed all my worst fears about him. I was afraid this was the kind of send off I’d eventually get.

  I resigned myself to being too much of a “stick in the mud” for him, the two of us unequal spirits, unsuited to each other’s temperaments, unable to read each other’s needs. I believed that on the surface, while at the same time I thought it a total lie, way down inside. Something about the two of us was completely perfect, but I didn’t know for sure what it was.