by Amy Star
A knowing chorus of women’s voices rose up around her, saying, “Uh-huh! I’ll bet!” And they all laughed again, and Sherry laughed with them. And they proceeded together the rest of the way to the parking lot.
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That night in bed in Jaxon’s room in the Michaels house, Jaxon was surprised—more than pleasantly—at the way Sherry all but attacked him. She pinned him to the bed and groped and kissed her way up and down his entire naked, hairy, beautiful body, as if she wanted to devour him where he lay. He thought she would finish off her claiming of his body with a wicked, eyeball-spinning blow job, but she surprised him again. She had him turn over on his stomach and did something that drove him truly wild. She spread his legs and planted both her hands and her lips on the firmly muscled and hair-dusted mounds of his buttocks and began to squeeze and knead and kiss and lick every inch of them. Jaxon lay there astonished and drunk with arousal, his muscles becoming putty in her hands. He shivered at what she was doing to him, partly wondering where this was coming from and partly not caring, especially when she added one more surprise and began to put careful love bites up and down the contours of his ass. He almost cried out at that, but he stopped himself, choking off his shout and then gulping, from this most unexpected and delicious pleasuring. What, he wondered, would she do next?
What she did next was what Jaxon was expecting all along. She had him flip back onto his back and took three-quarters of his erection into her mouth with one gulp. And this time, Jaxon couldn’t help himself. A cry of explosive pleasure did burst fully from him until he quickly shut his mouth, muffling it. He grasped at the pillows while writhing inside from the way she sucked his cock and his balls. There was a feeling about it unlike any other time Sherry had gone down on him before. He loved it, but like the full-body kissing and the job she’d done on his buttocks, it came from left field. It was almost as if he were in bed with another woman tonight, another woman in the guise of his sweet Sherry. He wondered how long this new Sherry would stick around.
Jaxon hardly had time to dwell on this, as much as he could think about anything with the way Sherry pulled at his meat and berries with such voracious hunger. While keeping him prone on the bed, she then straddled him and descended on his throbbing prong, letting it slide up and into her and making him groan deeply and deliriously. Sherry rode him, leaning down into his face with her bosom. He kissed her bobbing breasts and captured them in his hands to suck her hardened nipples, then slipped one hand down below to find her clit. Strumming steadily at Sherry’s joy knob, he bent his knees and took control of the thrusting, driving his dick up into her hard and fast. She let out long, ecstatic whimpers under Jaxon, letting him take over the screwing, receiving his jabs and thrusts and feeling blasts of pleasure from them like firecrackers going off inside her. After a long, long, rapturous ride, Sherry felt the firecrackers of his pumping become a skyrocket of a climax. Under her, he released both a long, deep moan to match her orgasmic wail, and a geyser of cream that fountained up into her womb and then slid down his pole like a white frosting on his hard, manly treat.
After this, they cuddled, Sherry curled up in Jaxon’s arms, and basked in the warmth of a lay quite unlike any of the countless times they’d had before tonight. Sherry traced a path with her fingertip down Jaxon’s abdomen through his pubic hair and along the softened but ample shaft of his dick, while Jaxon fingered and thumbed her nipple, and in their minds they both replayed what had just happened in Jaxon’s bed.
“Sherry?” he said. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” she answered dreamily.
“What the hell did you and your friends do tonight anyway?”
Sherry lifted her head to catch Jaxon’s curious, bewildered, but thoroughly happy expression. For a moment, she flashed on her brief encounter with a scantily clad man in leather, and how a fantasy had strangely made her appreciate her reality. And, sputtering at first, then with a full and open guffaw, she laughed.
Jaxon raised an eyebrow and turned up the corner of his mouth at her, even more perplexed at her reaction to the question. “Seriously,” he said, “what went on tonight?”
Calming her laughter, Sherry put her head back down on his hairy pecs, her favorite pillow, and sighed. “We were just girls out having fun, that’s all. Just girls drinking and laughing and being silly. Just having fun.” She kissed his chest and squeezed his nipple.
“That’s all, huh?” he said.
“That’s all.” And her deep, contented breath warmed his chest.
With a shrugging look, Jaxon simply said, “Okay.” And in his thoughts: If you say so.
And they were quiet for a while, until Jaxon was ready again for business as usual.
Chapter11
The last formalities before the wedding were the rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner. The first of these took place in the old Smithintown Presbyterian Church, the first house of worship that had ever been built in town, and the one where nearly every “peace marriage” had been held since the beginnings of the old and nearly forgotten tradition. In spite of themselves, Jaxon and Sherry could not help but be filled with a sense of history, of connection to the past, when they entered in this place and rehearsed the things they would do in the presence of the Minister and their family and friends. It actually did feel as though they were part of something very old and, in its own way, rather noble. They could not help but feel just the slightest bit humbled by it all.
Bernard and Ethan had gotten Humbert out of bed, cleaned up, dressed, and into a scooter chair to be a part of this occasion as he would be a part of things when the actual wedding took place. Jaxon and Sherry watched Jaxon’s grandfather at the few odd moments when all the attention was not on them. They watched Humbert watching them and saw the pleasure in his eyes and his soft smile, the pleasure of seeing the fruition and fulfillment of something to which he’d been looking forward from the moment he learned that his grandson and the human girl were lovers. They knew that he was getting his wish, seeing the line of continuity from past to present to future about which he’d spoken with such depth of sincerity actually being played out before his old eyes.
Neither Sherry nor Jaxon nor anyone else breathed a word about the idea of annulling the whole thing. But they knew that somehow, deep down, Humbert must know what this all really was and where it was all most likely to end. No one said anything to Humbert about it. They only assumed that he knew and did not care. He was old and would be leaving this world soon enough, and this was the last thing he wanted to see before he went to the Forest of Spirits.
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The rehearsal dinner was held at Sherry’s house. After-dinner activities between the young couple were held in the room over the McCabes’ garage, to which the two of them discreetly slipped away after dessert, leaving a very knowing wedding party back in the house.
After two performances with his accustomed exuberance and lust, Jaxon reluctantly rolled from atop Sherry and they lay in post-coital warmth, staring up at the ceiling to which they had hurled their sounds of joy. Jaxon’s hand inched over to find Sherry’s, and their fingers joined and knitted together in an echo of the joining of their bodies. They turned their heads towards each other, gazing dreamily at each other across the bed. Squeezing each other’s hand, they broke out into goofy, sex-drunk grins and began to snicker naughtily.
“Damn, we’re good,” Jaxon chortled.
“Very good,” Sherry snickered back at him. She sighed at him, and he watched her, just as warmly but a little more calmly.
“You know,” Jaxon said after a minute of just lying there looking at one another, “twenty-four hours from now, you’re gonna be in bed with your husband. Your husband. Think about that. Does that really seem real to you yet?”
“Does it really seem real to you? Being in bed with your wife, I mean. Your wife.”
“It’s kind of weird,” Jaxon said, then quickly added, “A good weird. It’s not bad or anyt
hing. It’s just…a strange kind of idea, I guess.”
“I know what you mean. It’s almost like we’re going to look at our lives and not quite know where we are or how we got there.”
“Yeah. It’s not like when we were in school and everything was cut out for us. Everything that happens from now on, we’re the ones that have to make it happen.”
“Exactly,” said Sherry. “But first we’ll be at this stage of, ‘How did we get to this place? How did this happen to us?’”
“Right,” Jaxon agreed. “That’s how it always is when you leave one part of your life and go to the next part. It’s like being in a strange forest and not knowing it and having to figure out where you are.”
They were quiet again for a moment. Then, Sherry said, “You know how we sound right now? We sound almost like we think it’s for real, like we think we’re doing this for keeps and not planning to say it’s over after a while.”
“That’s because we’re doing it all like it’s real,” said Jaxon. “We’re not doing it like we’re pretending; we’re doing it like this is actually meant to be our life. We couldn’t just, you know, go to Town Hall and find a judge. We had to do this up proper to satisfy Granddad. That’s why it feels like it does. We’re doing all the real stuff for something that’s not supposed to be for real.”
“You’re right,” she said. “That makes it strange.”
“Good strange,” he repeated his earlier point.
She agreed again. “Good strange.”
They returned to staring up at the ceiling again. As they lay that way, still holding hands, Jaxon said, “Tomorrow night, we’re gonna have another first time. We had our first, first time in school, which was unforgettable. Then there was our first time without a condom, which was fucking awesome. And tomorrow night…our first time married. Damn. Our first time married.”
“We keep having firsts,” she said.
He looked over at her, the lust returning to his eyes and his smile. “Good thing about that is we always have seconds. And thirds.” He moved over closer to her and pulled her to him for a kiss. She gave herself into the kiss and felt his returning erection hot and hard against her thigh. Jaxon rolled her onto her back and put himself half on top of her, kissing her deeply again. He moved a hand to her bosom and squeezed her breast. “Tomorrow night,” he said into her mouth, “it’s gonna be my wife’s tits in my hands.” He took her by one hand and moved it down between his legs to grasp the length and hardness there. “And it’s gonna be your husband’s dick…”
A heat of excitement rose up inside Sherry—and almost as much to her own surprise as to his, she took her hand away from his hard-on, pressed it against his gorgeous and hairy chest, and pushed him back. Lying at arm’s length from her now, Jaxon blinked at her, thoroughly perplexed. “Huh?” he reacted.
Sherry gave him a remorseful look, a look as disappointed as he felt. “Jaxon,” she said, “we can’t. Not tonight.”
Pointing at the throbbing prominence below his waist, Jaxon argued, “Uh, baby…trust me. I definitely can.”
“I know you can,” she said. “You always can, I know that. But…we can’t.”
“Why the hell not? I’m set for Round Three.”
“Because if you go a third time, you won’t stop at that and you’ll be here all night. You’ll be here in the morning.”
“So? We both love a morning lay.”
“Yes. Yes, we do. But…not on our wedding morning. Our wedding morning is the one morning we shouldn’t wake up together. The first time you see me on our wedding day should be when we’re both in the church, ready to stand up and take the vows. It’s what you do when you get married.”
Jaxon rolled over onto his back and ruffled his fingers through his hair. He half-sighed, half-laughed, “Holy shit. We started this whole thing by trying to fight some useless old tradition, and now look at us. You’re actually throwing tradition at me. Holy shit.”
With the sincerest remorse she’d ever felt in her life, Sherry reached over to him and stroked her knuckles against his face. “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry, Jaxon. But listen…this will be the one and only time. Okay?”
Once again, he turned his head to her. “Damn right it’s gonna be the one and only time.”
“It’s just like what we were saying earlier. We’re doing everything as if it’s for real. And I just want to do this part like it’s for real too. Please, Jaxon?”
He sounded truly pained. And of course, down below the waist he was aching, an ache that was apparently not about to be relieved. “You really expect me, lying here with a hard-on, ready to fuck, just to climb out of this bed, put it back in my pants, and go back to my own room—by myself?”
“Just this once,” Sherry promised.
Jaxon exhaled with a blubbering sound, like the air being let out of a balloon—which was an apt metaphor for what was now starting to take place at his crotch. “You know,” he said, “since we’re doing this like it’s for real…I’m gonna make like a good husband, or a good groom anyway, and respect my bride’s wishes. Okay. I’ll get up. I will actually get dressed and walk out the door into the night—without screwing my fiancée one more time. I’ll take the hit. I’ll make the sacrifice.”
“That’s my handsome bear,” she said, smiling softly at him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, along with some other things she couldn’t make out, for which she was a bit grateful. Hesitantly, grudgingly, Jaxon pulled himself up from the sofa bed, and in his nakedness, he trudged over to the chair into which he had piled his clothing. Holding his slacks in one hand, he faced Sherry, looking so glorious standing there naked that Sherry cursed herself a bit for adhering to this one tradition. He pointed to what was now insistently just half-erect and said, “So help me, tomorrow night, nothing gets between you and this. Understand?”
Sherry nodded, sitting up on the bed, gathering the sheets onto herself to cover her breasts and bush, concealing herself from him for what she promised herself would be the one and only time. “Yes, Sir,” she said.
He did the blubbering exhale again, and Sherry sat up watching him dress, resisting with every fiber of her being the urge to say, Damn tradition, come back here, and pull him back into bed. In a moment, those beautifully hair-dusted muscles lay under trousers and a shirt once more.
Jaxon climbed back onto the bed with her, just to lean over her and plant his mouth on hers one more time. The kiss lingered, and it took all of Jaxon’s force of will to stop himself pulling the sheets from her and mauling her breasts.
He climbed back off the bed and pointed at her. “Tomorrow night.”
“After our little date at the church tomorrow afternoon.”
Shaking his head, Jaxon made for the door and let himself out. Sherry sat up in bed, listening to his footsteps going down the stairs alongside the garage. She felt an urge, a need, to look at him one more time tonight, dressed as he was, and she leapt from the bed with the sheets wrapped around herself and went to the window to look out. She caught sight of him walking down the driveway, and saw him turn, as if on instinct, to look up to the window over the garage. He kissed his fingers and held them up at her. She kissed her fingers and held them up for him. Jaxon smiled in the moonlight, turned, and walked off down the driveway.
Alone in the dimness of the room over the garage, where Jaxon had so savagely and delightfully taken her twice and offered her one more time, which she had actually turned down, Sherry muttered to herself, “I am an idiot.” Then, she sighed, looking ahead to tomorrow night, and muttered again, “We’ll make up for it.”
Jaxon had not driven to Sherry’s house for the rehearsal dinner. He had ridden with his brother and had assumed he would be spending the night, an assumption that he now cursed, even though he grudgingly understood the reasons why Sherry had nixed it. If he were really honest, he knew he could never bring himself to deny Sherry anything. He could never find it in himself not to do anything that she asked of h
im. That was how special she was to him, how special she had always been to him: his first love, with whom he had discovered sex and intimacy and connection, and with whom he would now enter into the adventure of matrimony. This was nothing he had ever expected. He had never thought he would go to bed with Sherry again, let alone marry her. He had never seen himself marrying his first love. There was a time, in fact, not long ago, when Jaxon had actually entertained the idea of marrying Fiona.
Walking down the darkened streets of Smithintown, with no company but the clacking of his shoes on the pavement, Jaxon whispered her name: “Fiona.” He’d had something with her that was in its own way every bit as special as what he’d had with Sherry. Like Sherry, Fiona was of a completely different breed than Jaxon was, but they’d found their way together, and the feeling between them had rendered the difference irrelevant. All that mattered between the two of them was the way they expressed their feelings in bed. Being in bed with Fiona was every bit as joyous as being in bed with Sherry had been. Jaxon had never forgotten the softness and warmth of her body, the feeling that she gave off when she was under him, the sound of her calling his name during sex with her feminine British accent. He’d found bliss with her and had given honest thought to making it a permanent bliss.