by Marco Vassi
“Jack, you have more energy than almost anyone I know. Why do you pretend you’re weak?”
She tightened her embrace and as she spoke she brought her mouth to his ear. The heat and motion of her breath sent a chill down his spine. His arms went around her waist and his hands slid over her buttocks. It was as though they had not been physically separated in all the time between their last contact. She represented his ideal form and when he held her it was like a sculptor running his hands over the statue that would always be too perfect for him to ever carve.
“If I fuck you, you get cut loose from her,” he said. “That’s what’s happening, isn’t it?”
“Maybe,” she said. But she knew he was right. She had called him because she needed someone she could trust to get her out of her obsession with her involvement with Joan. And Jack had helped her psychologically, and now she wanted him to complete the operation. She needed to put the experience of his body between her and Joan, so she would have perspective on her relationship with the girl on all its levels. She pressed her pelvis against his, the heat of her cunt surging through their clothes to bathe his cock.
He lowered his head and licked her throat. His hands came up and pulled her torso forward, so that her breasts flattened against his chest. The breath was forced from her lungs and she sagged slightly against him.
“Remember when it used to be that people would feel passion, and the passion would lead them to sex? Now we crank ourselves up sexually and hope that we will generate some passion. What a long way we’ve fallen.”
“Who are you talking about?” she asked, her hips rotating.
“You, me, the species. Everybody. Anybody.” His hands now moved with a kind of relentless momentum, skimming her spine, cupping her ass, sliding up her arms and onto her breasts. She bobbed back and forth as he played with her. They were joined at the thighs and at their genitals, while above the waist they leaned back from one another.
Jack’s cock began to swell and harden even as his mind grew cold and clear. With physical energy and intellectual sharpness, he lacked only the involvement of his heart to make him complete. He looked at Margaret. Her eyes were closed and she was already sinking into the first stages of her sexual swoon. She was so superb in her simple being that Jack’s knees momentarily buckled. But he stiffened his legs to support her.
“Maggie,” he said. She raised her lids halfway and looked at him through veiled eyes. Her lips were curved in a mysterious smile.
“If we could love each other, if we could just love each other. Do you know how simple all life would be? Do you know how different all existence would appear before our eyes? All these things we do? Our jobs, our sex, our intrigues…without love, it’s all grotesque.”
Like a sliver of steel she cut into his soul with a single glance. Her voice was like wind across frozen tundra. “Then love me,” she said. “Love me if you can, if you will. Because I am too weak to sustain it. And if you show the way, I will follow you.”
Outside, a car screeched to a sudden halt. There was no thud, so Jack knew that the brakes had been put on in time. And the narrow escape from whatever accident had almost taken place on the street below reminded him of what was going on in his own body. The effect of Margaret’s impact had taken its toll, and he was sliding into the very pit he had just dragged her out of. He laughed to himself, a mirthless sound.
“I keep forgetting my limitations,” he said.
She covered his mouth with hers. Her lips were soft and warm. Her tongue, the tip of temptation dancing behind the moment. He responded automatically. And in an instant, they were deep in a hushed embrace, blending and merging into that space which is given by the god of sex to soothe poor humanity in its painful search for love.
“Oh fuck it,” she whispered into his mouth. “There’s this. We have this. Let’s drink the wine that’s in our cup and not go chasing after things that may not even exist. Sex is ours. Let’s give ourselves to sex.”
They moved easily to the bed that lay, still unmade from the morning, at the far corner of the large room. They did not speak or look at one another, but walked with their arms around each other’s waists toward the altar where this sacrifice would be consummated. They went slowly, as though in a ritual, a priest and priestess of pornography, having accepted that they would never know the love they desired except through the vehicle of sex. That, for them, there was no love apart from sex. And that sex itself was no guarantee that love would flow. They could only go so far themselves. They could make themselves naked, give themselves to one another in the ultimate embrace, and let the spirit of sex take them up. And if they were honest and strong and brave, and if the unknown factor was moved to smile upon them, then something would enter their hearts, and they would melt with the feeling that gives life its only meaning, the feeling, the experience, that some call love, and some call god, and some call truth, and some call beauty.
“Wait,” said Margaret as they stood at the edge of the bed, “I have to pee first.”
“Mood breaker,” Jack complained as he disengaged.
“It won’t take much to get back into it,” she told him as she turned and walked off toward the bathroom.
Jack let the bathrobe fall from his shoulders and, naked, flung himself on the bed, bouncing a few times on the mattress. He let out a few grunts of exuberance, letting loose the tension energy that had been accumulating, and lay still for a few moments, collecting his attention within himself. It was so easy to be drawn out into that strange vibration which was neither his nor Margaret’s, but something they concocted between them, and then be left wandering in that ghostly space, dependent on her for his own awareness. And if she were careless, she could pull away and leave him gasping for identity.
“It’s called being ripped off,” he said to himself. “And I mustn’t let myself get ripped off.” Speaking to himself was his surest means of finding his balance.
Margaret undressed in the bathroom, shedding her clothes quickly. She flushed the toilet, although she had not had to urinate. She, too, needed to pull into herself for a few moments. The swings were very rapid, from heavy emotionality to stark cerebrality, from flickers of sensuality to a sense of cold isolation. She, like Jack, was caught in a process that they would both see through to completion. But it was a function of will and necessity, not a spontaneous delight.
She washed her face and hands, barely dried them, and stepped out into the large room. Her body was black in front of the light behind her and cast an elongated shadow in the irregular quadrilateral of white that was flung from the bathroom door onto the floor. The effect was highly unreal, and Jack appreciated its aesthetic qualities as he lazily stroked his cock and mentally girded himself for the ordeal of sexuality that lay ahead.
Margaret walked to the bed, slid forward, and without any other movement, covered Jack’s cock with her mouth. Her hair fell down on his belly and over his thighs. He took his hand away and let her have the already erect cock. She began by swallowing it entirely, letting it slide over her tongue and into her throat. She held her breath and did not move for a very long time, the velvet tip lodged in the tiny passage, the sturdy rod stuffing her mouth, her lips lost in the curl of his pubic hair. The heat built slowly, and when it reached its peak, Jack clenched his buttocks and lifted his hips off the bed, thrusting his cock symbolically deeper into her throat. Physically, it could go no farther, for she had gulped its entire length.
She pulled back slowly, and as she did her tongue licked the underside of his cock, which had begun to throb. She continued until the purple head was at the tip of her lips, and she kissed it repeatedly, wetly, and then lapped it with broad rapid strokes of her tongue. She held it in one hand and smacked it against her mouth. And then, taking a deep breath, she swallowed it whole once more, this time going very, very slowly, so they could both feel the long, exquisite passage of his slippery cock into her beautiful mouth. He raised his head to look down at her. The light was splashed acr
oss her back, throwing her ass into high relief, the twin mounds gleaming and the deep crack between lost in dark shadow. Her legs were kicking slightly, a gentle scissors motion, as her cunt rubbed against the bed. Her face was indistinct, and he could barely make out the shape of her delicate lips as they stretched wide to encompass the base of his thick shaft. The sight of her being fucked in the face was as exciting, if not more so, than the sensations of having his cock pulsing in her throat, and when she pulled back the second time, again licking and kissing his cock as it slid out of her mouth, he almost came, and had to clutch the pillow behind him and tense his thighs to hold back the bubbling sperm which threatened to explode out of him without warning.
“Come around this way,” he said. “I want your cunt.”
She rolled her legs over until her crotch was at his face and they were curled into one another. She took his cock once more, only halfway into her this time, and just held it there. She rested her head on the bed and let his cock throb gently on her tongue, lost in the pleasant regressive delight of drifting off into reverie with the breast-surrogate between her lips. Jack hooked his hands over her thighs and reached around and under to slip his fingers between the cheeks of her ass, the tips reaching her cunt. He applied a small bit of pressure and her legs parted. Her cunt opened to his eyes. It was already wet, and the uncanny smell assailed his nostrils. His cock warm and wet in her mouth, his body comfortable on the bed, he put his face between her thighs and slipped his tongue into her waiting pussy. She twitched once and then closed around him.
They lay like that for a long time, not moving, simply feeling. Their breathing became full and natural, and the smells and tastes of their bodies became nothing more than a part of the environment, and not something to huff and puff over. Perhaps they came close to falling asleep, but it did not matter, for they were a single closed circuit. Occasionally he would adjust his position and bring his lips forward to suck the excess juices that dripped from her cunt lips, or she would squirm and press her breasts into his thighs and curl her tongue around his cock, which now lay three-quarters hard in her mouth. They were both able to forget each other and pay full attention as they brought activity to a minimum and receptivity to a maximum.
Finally, however, the basic biology began to make its demands. Their bodies could store up only so much electricity before their separate charges had to be discharged and neutralized. They started to writhe, each pushing into the other. Jack’s cock got stiff again and filled Margaret’s mouth completely, and he began to lick her cunt steadily, his tongue at first covering the outer lips with broad strokes, but then curving inward, darting between, tasting the sweet mucous of the inner lips and the sharp wetness of the center. And then he was inside, his fingers pulling her hole apart as his tongue slid into the hot cavity behind. The inside of her cunt was a succulent receptacle of her body’s excretions. It was odd that a man should be so powerfully drawn to a woman’s fluids, yet he sucked them in vigorously, revelling in the taste and texture of the slimy secretions.
Abruptly they split apart, and he was grappling up her torso like a mountain climber scrambling for a hand-hold on a sheer rock. He grasped her breasts, and then covered one nipple with his mouth. Her huge nipples were wrinkled and looked like stretches of volcanic rock. They had the texture of petrified satin and she gasped as he sucked the sensitive violet mounds between his teeth. Her hands were at his neck, pressing him into her. Her hips rotated wildly. Her legs kicked. And Jack burrowed into her like a scorpion disappearing into hot sand.
Remembering himself, remembering what happened each time he let himself go totally, Jack slowed down and stopped all activity. He let Margaret’s breast fall out of his mouth, took his hands off her body, and rolled over on his side. She reached for him once, and then, understanding what was happening, lay back.
“Heavy breathing,” he said at last. “There aren’t too many women who can get me panting and humping like that.”
“Does it make you nervous?” Her voice was mocking. She could not argue with his behavior since this fuck was a favor for her, but she could not smother her frustration entirely. Margaret rolled over on her stomach and listened to her rapidly-beating heart slow down. She stretched her legs and flexed her buttocks in order to get more comfortable, but Jack, whose cock had a different morality from the rest of him, saw the movement in one dimension only.
He leaned over and began to stroke the backs of her thighs while he licked her spine with his tongue. She sighed. The sex would be like this at first, in fits and starts. She let herself get lost in her thoughts as Jack fed himself on her body, rubbing it, licking it, feasting on it with his eyes. She thought of Joan, and tried to picture her with Manuel. Now that she herself was being fucked, she could bear the idea of Joan’s giving herself to her new lover. And running that film over now would make it less painful when the image returned later on; this was the process of defusing jealousy. It was what Jack was helping her to do.
As Jack covered her body with his own, Margaret became Joan underneath Manuel. The slim man above her became the tall muscular Puerto Rican that Margaret had seen five days a week for almost a year and never looked twice at. She remembered Joan’s cunt wrapped around her fingers, and as Jack slid his cock slowly into her asshole, she conjured up the photograph of Joan raising her buttocks to take Manuel’s cock between her cheeks.
“Oh Joan,” she said to herself, “my sweet little Joan. Yes, let him fuck you. Let him open your ass with his dark cock.”
And she could flow with that fantasy because Jack was patiently and concentratedly pushing his cock deeper and deeper into her, until it was embedded its full length into the narrow opening between her buttocks, and the pain of imagining Joan in the same position with Manuel was wiped out by the pleasure of having her own ass fucked.
Jack looked down at the woman who was letting him use her body. He knew that her thoughts were elsewhere, and that she was doing this for reasons that had nothing to do with him. But it was a favor for a friend, and he was willing to help. Also, he was slightly drunk on the sight of Margaret’s body lying so relaxed under him. Her hair was spread over the pillow, her long narrow back undulated gently, and her deep lovely ass was parted around his cock, opening to it, sucking it in while her legs kicked in a slow, steady rhythm, a counterpoint to his own thrusts.
He leaned back and pulled Margaret with him, his hands grabbing the fronts of her thighs. Her ass came back and up, until she was on her knees and her buttocks were high off the bed and curved into space. Jack knelt behind her, his back straight, his fingers pulling the cheeks apart, as he stared straight down her cleft, watching his cock slide in and out of the tiny hole, which spread and shrank as he moved forward and back, his cock filling her entirely and then leaving her empty, only to fill her again. She began to clench her cheeks, trapping his cock in a grip of firm flesh, and then, just as he was struggling to push in against the wall of muscle, would let go, and he would burst rudely into her, his cock sinking into her ass up to the hilt.
He started to fuck her more rapidly and with harder strokes, until his thighs were slapping against her buttocks and his balls were swinging against her cunt. Margaret brought her hands up under her and began to rub two fingers over her clitoris, while two more fingers slid into the hole and started to twirl around.
Her mind reeling with the images of Joan and Manuel, seeing the slim girl being split apart by the huge muscular Latin, her fair skin a startling contrast to his swarthy complexion, Margaret climbed toward climax. The rushes in her cunt were hotter and faster, fed by the friction of Jack’s cock in her ass. Her breasts swung freely under her, the nipples brushing against the sheet. She ground her ass into him, impaling herself as deeply as she could on his cock.
Jack began to whine and let himself trip into orgasm. The sweet sensations in his cock had melted his reserve. His mouth was still tingling with the taste of Margaret’s cunt and his mind was still munching on the delicious warmth of t
heir lying together in a tender sixty-nine. And superimposed on that now was Margaret kneeling in front of him, her high, wide ass rolling on his cock, her fingers probing her cunt and rocketing explosive charges into her clit, the first gasps of the evening coming from her lips.
“Fuck me,” she urged. “Oh Jack, shove it up my ass. Let me feel it. Drive everything out of my mind. Scrape me clean, baby. Wash me with your cum.”
And, generous and obliging as always, Jack let his body go, and tremble, and his fingers dug into her cheeks, and his cock soared in her ass, and the heat and tension boiled in his belly and his balls, and with a hoarse shout he let it all shoot out, pumping the fierce ejaculation into her sucking ass, as she clenched her thighs and drank his sperm and jiggled her finger frantically until her own waves of release vibrated in her womb and into her cunt and into her loins and she spent her excitement in the vacuum of her empty box.
They stayed glued to one another for a full minute, as the last pulsations surged through his cock and the final drops of jism were pressed by her tightened buttocks into her bowels. And she rubbed her clitoris gently and softly, until a second orgasm thrilled through her, lighter than the first, but taking the ragged edge off her initial climax. And only when they were completely finished did she sink to the bed, his cock sliding out of her ass and hanging wet and limp over her as he swayed back and forth on his knees.
They did not move for a few more minutes, until the tumult had died down, and when they were out of the storm and returned to their normal states, Margaret asked for a cigarette.
“They’re on the couch,” he said. “I’ll get them.”
And so they smoked, wondering as people often do, what it had all been for. Margaret’s fever had abated. Through her dance with Jack, Joan’s departure no longer ate at her insides. She was almost ready to dismiss the girl from her mind altogether, but with her ass throbbing and her cunt tingling and her body in a sweet lassitude, Margaret was able even to be magnanimous. If Joan returned, Margaret would forgive her totally.