STEAM
BY
CHERI CRYSTAL
STEAM
© 2012 Cheri Crystal. All rights reserved.
THIS ELECTRONIC ORIGINAL SHORT STORY HAS EROTIC CONTENT AND ADULT THEMES. READERS MUST BE OVER 18 TO PURCHASE.
PUBLISH DATE: NOVEMBER 2012
THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. NAMES, CHARACTERS, PLACES, AND INCIDENTS ARE THE PRODUCT OF THE AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION OR ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, BUISINESS ESTABLISHMENTS, EVENTS, OR LOCALES IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL.
SCANNING, UPLOADING AND/OR DISTRIBUTION OF THIS BOOK VIA THE INTERNET, PRINT, AUDIO RECORDINGS OR ANY OTHER MEANS WITHOUT THE PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR/PUBLISHER IS ILLEGAL AND WILL BE PROSECUTED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW.
PHOTOS BY JO GREGSON
GRAPHIC DESIGN BY BRIAN ROSENBERG
FIND CHERI CRYSTAL ON THE WEB AT www.chericrystal.com
THIS AND ALL MY STORIES ARE DEDICATED TO JO
For being my constant source of inspiration,
For always making me smile,
For all her love, devotion, encouragement and support
And for being the best wife in all the world, no, make that in all the
Universe.
I LOVE YOU X
Whenever I’m sure I love Gwen the most she does something incredible that makes me love her even more. It only takes a simple gesture like zipping up my coat before I brave a storm or a selfless act like handing over the TV remote when I know she would rather watch debris gather in rain gutters one piece at a time than endure another sappy chick flick with a tear-jerker ending.
In the twenty years I’ve known her and the eighteen we’ve been together, Gwen has never said, “I love you,” and yet, I am completely confident that she does. How many girlfriends would give up her last hanky after relieving herself in the wilderness so her lover wouldn’t have to drip dry for the rest of the trek? Especially after hiking half a mile out of her way so that her pee-shy partner wouldn’t have to bare her ass in front of strangers too!
Even my occasional lapses into self-doubt and despair when things don’t go my way don’t stand a chance against the woman who lifts my spirits. Her strong support sustains me. It’s true, we’re different. She doesn’t feel the need to put her deepest thoughts into words, while I emote enough for both of us and maybe even a small planet. Instead my Gwen shows me in subtle and not so subtle ways how much she cares, like her devotion to making our relationship last through the peaks and valleys. I see love in her smile; desire in her eyes; and her unspoken words linger on her lips. I love the familiar, soft, full, moist lips that entice me, delight me, and excite me. Sorry if I get all mushy but I just can’t get enough of her kisses. I find comfort in the warmth of her embrace; I reside in her generous heart and occasionally relax when surrounded by her serene spirit. With Gwen, I am home, and I’m not shy about letting the whole world know it too.
Twenty years ago I had to fight my way close enough to her surface to crack its impenetrable shell. It took two years, but my greatest reward was the day she allowed me a sneak peek into her private world.
She only shares her joys and disappointments with the ones she loves. I don’t take the privilege for granted. Some women need to hear those three words, ‘I love you,’ in order to believe it, but I’m content. She fills me with all the nourishment I’ll need for a lifetime.
Why just last night her heated thrusts deep inside my very soul threw me into orbit. Our courtship dance may have morphed into comfortable committed coupling, but our sex-life remains lively and playful. Sometimes our love-making lands me in a solo fit of giggles until Gwen joins in. Her laughter is a bonus. She often takes herself much too seriously. Whenever a rare dark mood would present itself, I used to assume there was something sinister hidden in a dark place she kept closely guarded like a sacred tomb. During those times when Gwen retreated into herself, I gave her space and eventually she’d wrestle the demons she claimed were just not worth her time or mine, and all would be right again with our world.
Gwen is a doer, not a complainer when it comes to most things. I freely admit that complaining is like scratching an itch. I’m compelled to do it even if it is palliative at best. I’ve scratched mosquito bites to the point of leaving permanent scars. It’s annoying that she exhibits the self-control I wish I had. It drives me insane when she has every right to bitch and moan and she just refuses to do it. Oh well, nobody is perfect.
This morning when Gwen walks in, I’m leaning on a kitchen cabinet reading through lesson plans for my AP global history class to the sounds and stimulating aroma of coffee brewing. Gwen adds ample energy to her surroundings. I immediately light up as I give her my full attention. She’s holding an iPad safely nestled in the crook of her arm. God is she hot sporting a tailored dark suit with a cream silk shirt open at the neck. Her shined Rieker Antistress dress shoes at the bottom of her fitted trousers complete her professional look with a comfort that’s more than skin deep. Although my girl sacrifices plenty in the name of love, her swagger reminds me of the praying mantis that got the girl, and without being cannibalized after copulating, lived to gloat about it. She lightly brushes my lips with hers and then gives me a knowing wink as color rises in her cheeks. We’re both basking in last night’s glow. Thoughts of lesson plans or anything except Gwen simply fade away.
It seemed like yesterday that we traveled in similar circles for months before I got up the nerve to approach her at a pot-luck dinner. From across a crowded room, I fell in love with her smooth fair skin, adding sweetness to her chiseled features like the white powder of the sugared donut she popped into her mouth the night we first spoke at length. I remember equating her large forehead with deep thought. I adore her ultra high cheekbones, razor-sharp nose and rugged jaw. I was drawn to her toughness and wanted to devour the sweet parts too, but it was her expressive dark eyes, brown hair and her full lips that clinched the deal, especially when she turned the most amazing shade of red after I revealed my salacious thoughts on our third date. Gwen didn’t have to utter a single syllable that night and yet I could read her face and later her body in explicit detail. It’s hard to believe that was so long ago. I never tire of reminiscing, but her presence snaps me back to earth.
“The coffee’s ready,” I say as I move in for a quick embrace. “Do you want fried eggs on toast or cereal?”
“Eggs, please.” She releases me to strut over to the table. First she puts her iPad down before setting two places and pouring our coffee. She’s reading the news by the time I bring over our food.
I flip through my notes while I eat, scribbling ideas as I go. We enjoy our communal silence during breakfast as I talk non-stop most dinners about the crazy antics my students pull. Gwen shares too. She runs a tight ship in a government agency that boasts excellent production with high employee morale. Not one person has transferred or quit in the twenty-six years since Gwen took over.
“It’s all in the way you look at any given situation,” she once told me. “If something’s not working then you try something else until it does. Simple.” I kissed her all over until she carried me up an entire flight of stairs towards our bedroom.
In classic Gwen style, after bestowing her wisdom, she had successfully stripped me of worry and clothing.
Every piece of my heart belonged to Gwen. I was safe, wanted and totally loved. Day after day, night after night, she gave me all of herself. There wasn’t another soul on earth she allowed to know her like I did. To me that was more sustaining than words.
No matter how bad my day had been Gwen had a way of making it all better. She was a healer of sorts.
After my boss had used my idea as his own genius, adamantly claiming learning labs were a waste of taxpayer’s money;
I was rightfully pissed off. If I had spoken up, he would have made my life miserable, but silence would have driven me crazy. Gwen had a plan for me to deal with him, but first she had to calm me down with a good seeing-to.
I was naked in seconds, but she slowly chucked her clothes off one item at a time, starting with her shoes, as I leaned on my elbows to watch with great anticipation.
“Hurry and get your beautiful butt over here,” I pleaded.
She threw her bra at me, her voluminous breasts bouncing slightly as she climbed onto our bed. Our naked flesh, already feverish, melded into one another—we fit perfectly. I allowed her lips and tongue to explore my cheeks, my throat, and behind my ears before I grasped her head to guide her ministrations further south.
“Slow down,” she murmured, in her controlled way.
“You’re insufferable,” I whined, but she continued to tease me until my nipples stiffened and my pussy grew wet, clenching with need so fierce I feared I’d come before she even fucked me. I may have said as much but she shushed me with kisses intense yet loving, rough yet tender. Then she sucked on my nipples until my clit twitched dangerously close to climax.
Amidst my plentiful moans of pleasure, her breath sounds caught a few times. She straddled my legs and began painting my thigh with her slick outer lips in slow strokes of desire, as if marking her territory. Even our feet touched. Not a part of our flesh remained unattended when Gwen made love to me and yes, vice versa. I could be quite assertive when I wished but that night I just wanted her to take me completely and on her terms.
I opened wider to welcome her inside. By then work issues vanished as did everything else except how badly I needed Gwen. I shouted, “Now!” and she finally succumbed to my command, her thumb stroking my rock-hard clit. Iridescent lights flashed before my eyes squeezed shut almost as tightly as every muscle from my waist down. I was on the verge of orgasm, pleasure shooting through me, ebbing and flowing, close to coming, then losing it, until my body became a mass of nerves rigid with want. I dared not even breathe, concentrating on letting go, but wanting to suspend the inevitable, to make it last.
Gwen sensed this without me uttering a word, for she slowed the teasing strokes of her thumb just enough to sustain but not pass the point of prolonged pleasure. She played my clit with a rhythm I had yet to learn to duplicate on my own. She was my clit master and I remained her eternal slave. When I couldn’t delay another second, I finally let go and enjoyed the glow long after she’d removed her hand.
“Nice?” she asked.
“Better than nice.” I murmured with the rush of my sated breath landing in her kiss.
When I regained a drop of strength, I declared, “Your turn, lie down.”
She brushed her finger across my lips while peering into my eyes, hers dark with desire. My scent lingered on her fingers. “You came hard enough for both of us.”
“Nonsense.” I shot up and with my hands firmly on her shoulders I pushed her back into the pillow. “There, this is better.”
I sat my tender bottom on her bushy mound, fragrant and moist, and felt another stirring even if it was too soon to come again. She reached out to touch my pussy still thrumming from the excitement of being filled by her, but I resisted my insatiable need, concentrating on her instead. I lifted my bottom and knelt between her thighs, spreading them with my knees to allow access. Then to torture her a bit, I parted her slick lips slowly as if to study every inch in detail. Her clit, at attention and about to burst, was enough to push us both off a freaking climactic cliff, but the anticipation of inhaling her scent and tasting the tang of her come compelled me to take my time. Only impatience won out as usual. I dove in with my tongue first, eager to consummate the act, so I thrust my fingers inside her depths and met with little resistance.
Her hips gyrated as I sucked in her velvet tip. She squeezed my fingers in a tight rhythm signaling she was close to climax.
“God!” she said, her voice emanating from deep within her belly.
I glanced up without easing the pressure my tongue had on her need. Her taut facial muscles radiated. I loved being responsible for her pleasure. There’s that exquisite point between enjoying the buildup, and then needing the teensiest breather before reaching increasingly higher levels, and yet wanting to come so badly that desperation sets in. I could tell she was at that point; her clit got white just before she was about to combust. It was near impossible to slow it down, but if I let her have it then she wouldn’t come as hard as I had in mind.
I had two fingers inside, her tight grip nearly cutting off the circulation, and used both thumbs to spread her pussy wider. It glistened. I was in my glory. I could no longer alternate between teasing the insistent nub and sucking on her luscious labial folds than I could deny her anything, but somehow I managed to hold off a few more moments.
If I veered too far off the beaten track, she groaned in protest. I couldn’t stand teasing her any longer either. As I serviced my girl, it was as if my thighs were taking care of me, squeezing and releasing tighter the closer Gwen got. When her climax started I increased my pace, but as gently as humanly possible without moving away.
I kept at it as steady as a vibrator only better because I loved what I was doing. I allowed her to move her hips in order to get the best orgasm and delighted when she sucked in her breath as she peaked. In a rush of air she exhaled, lifting her chin to watch me. I continued until I felt the tell-tale jerks. It was time to stop and I was rewarded with her rush of bliss. When I was sure she was totally sated, I gently kissed her clit’s tender tip. She laced her fingers through my hair signaling me to be still and flopped back onto the pillow with a contented sigh.
I crawled up into her arms and we laid there in our favorite pose: my head resting on her shoulder right above her left breast. I had one free hand to massage her right breast or to turn her face towards me for a leisurely kiss or even to run my fingers along her tight abs and bushy mound if I wanted. I draped my bent knee across her crotch while she pulled up the comforter so we could enjoy our post-coital cuddle.
Soon Gwen said the next time I came up with a new idea; I should put it in writing with witnesses before sharing it with my boss. She also reminded me that making him look good was one way to keep my job. I stole another glance at my brilliant partner and wanted to pinch myself to be certain I wasn’t dreaming. Although she often stated the obvious, she was so damn smart; I think that’s what drew me to her in the first place.
This morning the air positively crackles around her. “What are you smiling about?” she asks.
“You.”
“Your breakfast is getting cold.” Gwen touches the screen of her iPad for the next page.
I polish off the last of my eggs and finish my coffee. The second I put the mug down, Gwen looks up.
“You want more coffee?” she asks.
“No, thanks, I’m good.”
“What then?” she questions, as I just sit there enjoying the view.
“Stop looking at me that way, naughty girl.”
“What way?” I tease.
“You know with those pretty green eyes peering at me like you’re ready to rip my clothes off.”
“That’s a lovely thought, but actually, I was thinking—”
“Oh, no, let’s hear it.”
I rise and go to sit on her lap; she prepares herself by pushing back her chair and leveling her parted thighs. Once settled, my butt gracing her spectacular legs, our noses only a few inches away, I delight in fixing her hair. Using my fingers, I comb the rich brown shafts and tuck them behind her ears so I can kiss each lobe. I pretend to count the increasing strands of white hair that catch the light and get a slap but not without a smile. She pulls me in tighter, her strong hands clasping around my tush. “Spit it out, girl,” she glances at her watch, but I can tell she’s not in any hurry.
“You know how we’ve made love in every room of the house?” She grins, the color rising from a pleasing shade of pink to a much de
eper hue.
I kiss the tiny creases at the sides of her eyes and continue. “My favorite was the tool bench.”
“That was great,” she says, “but what about that time on the staircase?”
“Oh no.” I crack up. “I remember being caught between the wall and the riser with no place to go. That was distracting…and painful.”
“Right, you kept shouting something about ending up a cone head or was it with a beehive like Marge Simpson?”
“Good thing you stopped when you did or I’d have suffered far worse—brain damage.”
We both laugh.
“The back porch was good,” she says.
“You swore the neighbors were out, but I still think they had a free show.” I swat her playfully. “Otherwise, how do you explain their window shade moving up a few inches?”
“Well, how would I know when they were expected home? The sex was hot.”
“So were you.” I nuzzle my nose into her neck, inhaling the fresh clean scent of Irish Spring soap.
“So, what’s your big idea?”
“It’s almost time for our trip to England and I was thinking how nice a ride on the South Devon Railway would be.”
“What exactly does that have to do with having sex in every room of this house?”
“I thought it might be nice to try doing it aboard a real steam engine. How does that sound?”
“It sounds mighty enticing, but you’ll never go through with it.”
“Well, we’ll just have to see about that.” I put all the challenge in my voice I can muster.
“Deal.”
“So, should I purchase tickets on-line?”
“Go ahead.”
I reluctantly get up off Gwen’s lap as we clear the morning dishes in comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other, all flirty like we’ve just met. I know what she’s thinking behind her smiling eyes and plan to give her the vacation she’ll never forget. Once the kitchen is in order, we kiss each other goodbye before gathering up briefcases and heading outside, each going to our respective jobs.
Steam Page 1