MICHAEL R THOMASChapter 99
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McKayla's MiracleChapter 4 free porn video
I awoke with McKayla spooned up behind me. Her breath was warm against my neck. One arm was draped around me, cupping my breasts.
I lay there for a long time, wondering what I had done the night before. I had taken another woman as my lover. I didn't have anything against lesbians or homosexuals. I only knew a few, and they seemed just the same as anyone else. I liked guys then; I still do today.
Yet, that first morning I woke up in McKayla's bed, I knew there was no turning back. She had spoiled me.
I could count the number of lovers in my life on two hands. Some were good in bed. Some were not. Yet all of them were ultimately out for one thing: themselves. When a guy has sex, he is pretty much guaranteed an orgasm.
For the girl, it's different. We need to be built up. Slowly. I had a boyfriend in college who was very good in bed. But even then, sometimes he just used me to get off. I truly didn't mind, because our good trysts outnumbered the bad, and he was a pretty good guy. I think we would have been more serious if the Marine Corps Reserve hadn't activated him and sent him overseas.
My ex could be good if he wanted something. He could be bad if he just needed to bust a nut. Right after I moved to the beach, I went out with a guy who was a jackass most of the time but he had a "magic penis." He could do wonders with that thing and he could last for hours. He was my fuck buddy.
But none of them were even close to being in the same league as McKayla.
She did everything right. Even when she was touching or kissing me with just a hint of desperation, she never pawed at me. My breasts weren't speed bumps on the way to my cunt. When she touched me, it wasn't just to get me wet enough to slip it in; she primed me up and sent me over the top. She didn't eat me out thinking that it would automatically entitle her to a blowjob.
No, McKayla spoiled me for all men on that night. As I lay next to her, I knew that she was the one for me. In the soft light, I wondered if I could hold on to her.
The sun had just come up, its rays trying to creep in from behind the drawn curtains. I rolled over on my back. McKayla's head fell on to my shoulder. She looked so content. Her breathing was slow and steady.
My hand brushed the hair out of her face. She purred in her sleep.
I pushed her on to her back and rolled over on to my side. The top sheet fell away, exposing one of her wondrous breasts. I cupped it in my hand. Beneath her soft skin, it was firm.
The nipple hardened when I pinched it. A sleepy gasp escaped her lips. Leaning over, I gave her a soft, gentle kiss.
She tasted slightly of wine mixed in with a little bit of me.
"Good morning," I whispered.
McKayla smiled dreamily. "Yes, it is."
My hand hadn't left her chest. She bit her lip when I squeezed her breast, a little harder this time.
Her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me closer. We shared a long, sensuous kiss. Our naked bodies pressed together.
I rolled on top of McKayla, pushing the sheet away and straddling her hips. I felt the soft mound of her pussy brush against mine. That reminded me of the night before and the burning lust I felt between my legs that only the woman beneath me could quench.
We kissed some more, a little longer and a little harder each time.
Her hands roamed by body. I loved the tenderness of her touch. It was gentle and eager at the same time.
I began to kiss my way down her body as she had done to me the night before. I wasn't in any hurry. I wanted to appreciate her beauty. Slowly.
She moaned as I took control. I didn't really know what I was doing. Instead, I just let my hands and mouth roam, doing all the things to her that I liked having done to me.
My lips lingered on her collarbones. She gasped and stuck her chest out for me.
McKayla's nipples showed her excitement. Hungrily, I took her breast in my mouth.
"That feels so good," she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out.
Her hips started to grind against me in a familiar rhythm. I pressed back against her. We started to grind and hump against one another. It didn't matter that my pussy was empty.
Just having my lover close excited me. The motion started that tingle between my legs. She thrust her chest forward and I suckled on her breast. All the while our hips moved in tandem.
With every nibble McKayla moaned a little louder. When I squeezed her breasts like ripe melons, she gasped with a little more enthusiasm.
I had to have her in my mouth. I wanted to know what she tasted like. I needed to give her as much pleasure as she had given me.
McKayla let out a disappointed sigh when I pressed her body flat against her bed. I wedged one of my knees between her legs and pushed them so they were spread wide for me.
I looked down at her neatly trimmed pussy. Her body was splayed out beneath me. My hair hung down and I brushed the tips against her skin.
She closed her eyes and smiled. Planting a series of light kisses down the sensitive sides of her body, I worked my way down, taking care not to rush.
Every inch of her body was sexy and I savoured her, my first sapphic lover. Her skin was so soft.
"Oh, that feels so good," she purred. I bit her gently right above the hip, drawing another, louder, moan and a sharp gasp.
I felt her hands running through my hair. I know she wanted to grab me by the ears and plant my face right in her pussy—that's what I had wanted the night before when our positions were reversed—but she didn't. She was letting me take my time.
My lips left a line of slobbery kisses along her flat belly. I made sure to blow gently on her skin, making the hairs stand up.
"Mmmmmm ... I like that," McKayla whispered.
I smiled to myself, happy to be pleasing her.
My next move was to kiss the inside of her thighs, right below the hip. That drives me crazy. And not just a little bit. It makes me in-fucking-sane.
And it had the same effect on McKayla.
She inhaled sharply and thrust her hips forward. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed.
"Did you like that, too?" I asked, teasingly.
"Fuck, yeah." Her voice was trembling.
I inhaled the scent of her pussy. It was sweet and pungent. Her pussy was sopping wet and I was happy to have made her that way.
Her labia were swollen, the folds of her pussy was a bright pink against her dark, tan skin.
The previous night had been the point of no return for me. I looked up at her one more time. She lay there, looking back at me.
Her eyes were full of lust and desire. I wanted so desperately to please her. As she had done to me the night before. But not just to bring her physical pleasure. I wanted to make her loneliness go away. I wanted to give her the love and comfort she deserved.
As I had realised last night, I knew I wanted McKayla to be my love.
Her eyes hooded over as my mouth descended on her pussy. It was slick with anticipation.
My stomach was a bundle of nervous energy. A month ago, this was something I never would have imagined myself doing. Yet there I was, not only about to go down on another woman for the first time, but feeling eager to do so.
I hoped I wouldn't disappoint her.
One of the things I always hated when guys were giving me oral sex was when they rushed. For them, I think eating a girl out is just some foreplay before getting to the fuck.
So I tried to take it slow. I remembered all of the things I liked and did them on McKayla.
There was lots of tongue involved. She moaned and bucked her hips into my mouth.
When she would draw in her breath I knew I had done something right. When her body tensed, I made sure to file that move away for future use.
Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back. Those perfect breasts fell slightly to the sides. Her nipples were erect, the areolae wrinkled pinches of flesh.
"Oh, yes!" she cried out as my tongue lovingly massaged her swollen clit. My hands were underneath her ass, lifting her slightly off the bed.
I continued to work her over, trying to avoid going to fast, but also trying to build her up to a climax.
"That feels so good, Amberle," she whispered. I felt her hands brushing through my tangled hair. "So ... fucking ... good..."
My tongue moved faster, brushing over the sensitive nub. Her breaths were coming shorter.
The rise and fall of her chest was more pronounced.
Her moans were louder. More intense.
"That's it ... right ... right there!" Her head thrashed from side to side. My excitement grew as her grip on my hair became tighter.
I remembered something McKayla did to me the night before. I took two fingers and entered her. That brought a surprised—but delighted—gasp.
She continued to moan, a little louder each time, as I penetrated her, slowly at first, then in rhythm with my mouth.
"Jesus ... oh, god," my lover mumbled. "Oh! ... Yes, right there ... just ... like that!"
Inwardly, I smiled to myself, happy that my first experience giving head to a girl was much more satisfying than my first experience with a guy.
McKayla ground her pussy in my face, trying to meet each pass of my tongue with her clit. She arched her back and I knew she was close.
"Fuck ... fuck ... fuckfuckfuck," her voice devolved into a stream of unintelligible sounds, each louder and faster than the last.
With one final cry, McKayla threw her head back on her pillows. She released my hair and began pawing around the bed, looking for the first thing she could find and hold on to. She made a sound that was a mixture of lust and desire. Pure, unmitigated bliss.
Her pussy flooded with juices around my fingers. My tongue lapped up all I could for as long as her orgasm went on. It seemed like forever as she continued to cum.
McKayla's moans gradually subsided and I let up on her. Soon, the only sound in the room was her ragged breathing.
I continued to gently kiss and nibble around her pussy. Softly. Gently. Just to tease her a little bit more. I withdrew my fingers from her velvety folds and tasted my lover. She was sweet and delicious.
With one final kiss to her clit, I crawled up the length of her body. I brushed her hair out of her face and brought her lips to mine.
Our kiss was hungry, yet tender. She wrapped her arms around me and we held each other. I felt her round breasts pressing against mine. Her fingertips ran up and down my back.
Every now and then our lips pressed together. McKayla nuzzled up against my neck, her teeth digging slightly into my skin. I sucked on her earlobe, just hard enough to draw a squeal of delight from my lover.
We must have stayed in bed for an hour, not speaking, just content to be in each other's arms. The sun was well over the horizon and McKayla lifted her head just enough to look at the clock.
With a regret-filled sigh, she sat up, but not before stealing one more kiss from me. Her hair was a glorious mess. I admired her tanned, naked body.
She looked into my eyes, a glimmer of hope and something else on her face. "Are you hungry? Can I make you something for breakfast, or would you like to go out for brunch later?"
"I thought you were breakfast." I took her hand and pulled her back onto the bed with me. After a night of passionate lovemaking, I didn't want her to be out of my reach. I kissed her hard, but she pulled away from me. Frustration welled up from within me.
"I've, um ... I've got to go to church in a little bit," she said. Clearly, she didn't want to leave me either, and that made me feel a little bit better. At least I wasn't that bad in bed. "Would you like to come with me?"
The look I gave her was one of bewilderment and uncertainty. I had given up going to church when I was in middle school. My folks went some when I was little, but after mom died, dad never went back except on Christmas Eve and Easter. I called myself a Presbyterian, but in truth, sleeping off Saturday night's excitement was more interesting to me than a boring Sunday morning service.
"I didn't bring anything to wear," I uttered the first excuse that came to my mind.
McKayla smiled wistfully, seeing through my bullshit. "God doesn't care about your clothes, silly. You don't have to go; I won't be long."
I felt awkward. On the one hand, I didn't have any real reason not to go. My motivations were purely selfish. I didn't want to be with anyone other than my new lover. I didn't want to be anywhere except next to McKayla in her bed.
She was also Catholic and that presented another set of quandaries. The papal stance on homosexuality was well-known and pretty much non-negotiable. And since we had spent the past day or so doing nothing but having homosexual sex made me not want to be in their building.
Yet at the same time, I knew that going to church was something that was important to McKayla. I also knew she was going with or without me. I took her hand and we stumbled out of the comfortable bed.
We shared a quick shower that was highlighted by some playful flirting, some not-so-playful groping and a little bit of soap. I ruffled through my bag and found a skirt and blouse outfit that was presentable. McKayla was dressed in a yellow sundress that only made her more radiant. Her hair was pulled back. I admired and envied her beauty at the same time.
The service was a typical mass. For me, that meant boring with lots of Latin that I didn't understand. I followed McKayla's lead when she stood, knelt and sat. The service wasn't packed, but it wasn't empty either. I looked around nervously, especially after I inadvertently slipped my hand inside hers at one point during the sermon.
I withdrew it a second later, afraid that maybe we'd be stoned or cast out as the priest was saying mass. It was an odd experience for me. I was used to showing my affection for my lovers publicly and without shame. Now, I had to watch myself. I chewed on my lip as the full implications hit me.
If what McKayla and I shared was more than a one night fling, if we really had something, could I live my life hiding some secret? What would my family think? Would I lose my job because of this? Could we go out in public and hold hands or kiss and not worry about someone taking a swing at us?
As I looked over at McKayla, who wasn't paying any attention to my silent musings, I realised that my life was at a crossroads. The only question was what I was going to do.
The service ended as I was in the middle of my contemplations. We go up to leave. Several people stopped by to greet McKayla. She introduced me as her "friend".
Is that what I was? Her "friend"? I stood by, trying not to look obviously infatuated with her, but at the same time, not wanting to appear aloof or snobby. I smiled a lot and didn't say much.
The people at her church were warm and friendly. A part of me felt as if each one were scrutinising me, as if they knew and were going to shout it out at any moment. But they said nothing of the sort and soon we were back in her car. The top was down and our hair whipped around in the warm breeze. We held hands.
"Want to go out or get something at home?" she asked.
I just shrugged. I didn't care as long as I was with her.
She drove back to her house and made a full breakfast. Once again, she wouldn't hear of me helping her out. I sat on a barstool at the end of her counter as she talked and cooked.
McKayla set a plate of bacon, eggs, hashed browns and toast down in front of me. "Thanks for going to church with me, Amberle. You didn't have to and I appreciate that."
I began to nibble at my food. There were some things I wanted to ask, but I didn't know if this was the time. I looked up and her eyes were on me. They seemed to bore right through me.
"You're wondering why I go, aren't you?" she said softly.
My reply stuck in my throat. She flashed a knowing smile.
"I wonder that a lot myself."
"Why the Catholic church?" I blurted out. "Why not one that's more..."
My voice trailed off.
"More what?" she asked, an impish grin on her face. "More gay?"
I was relieved that she could at least find something funny in this conversation. "Well ... yeah."
She shrugged. "I grew up Catholic. It's not something you just give up. They're not so bad ... despite what you think about the Pope."
I blushed and looked away.
Neither of us spoke for a long while. I searched for the right words. "I just don't know that I could stick around people who condemned me or my lifestyle. How can you go to a church that says that the most basic part of your life is a sin?"
Had I just pushed my luck with McKayla too far?
She had a thoughtful look and smiled reassuringly at me. "We're all sinners. Every one of us. If not for being a homosexual, then for coveting or stealing or whatever. Our lives are filled with sin, and it is only through the Grace of God that we are saved. I am reminded of that Grace every time that I go to church. I guess I could go to a different church, but there is something..."
Her gaze grew distant for just a second.
"There's something comforting about the rituals and liturgy of the Catholic Church," she continued. "I've been worshiping that way all my life. Some people think that our services are staid and boring and not very contemporary, but I like its regularity. I like that I know when to stand up, sit down and sing. Sometimes ... sometimes, I think that predictability is what has kept me sane..."
I reached out and touched her hand, wondering how much she was going to open up to me today. I wanted to let her know how much I appreciated the trust she was showing in me.
For a second she was silent, as if lost to a memory. Then she blinked and was back in the present. "I go to that church because they're actually pretty friendly towards gays and lesbians. Oh, not openly, Father can't come out directly in opposition to the Pope, but for the most part, that parish is much more open-minded than mainstream America would like you to believe about Catholics."
"So why does the church so vehemently oppose homosexuals?" I asked. "Not that I want you to speak for Catholics everywhere."
McKayla chuckled. "Why does any church oppose homosexuality?"
I shrugged.
"Because every church is one generation away from extinction," she replied. "If you are a church—Catholic, Mormon, Baptist, Muslim, whatever—what's the best way to ensure the world will always have Catholics, Mormons, Baptists or Muslims? You make more. Churches have always relied on raising young people in the faith to serve as the next generation. Conversion will bring a few new members, but for the most part, the way most churches propagate themselves is—pardon the expression—by breeding more."
"Why does that make gay people a threat to civilization?" I asked.
"It doesn't," McKayla replied. "That's what makes gay people a threat to the church, not civilization. What's the one thing straight people can do that gay people can't?"
"Have babies."
"Exactly," she smiled, seeing that I was catching on. "The Catholic church believes that the sole purpose of sex is to make more babies. That's why they oppose abortion, birth control and homosexuality. All of their arguments revolve around making more Catholic babies to perpetuate the church. In the sixties, there were a handful of 'churches' that advocated celibacy for all their members. They died out ... literally. Not only did they not make more members, but who wants to go to a church where you have to give up sex?"
We both shared another laugh.
"So why do some Catholics not mind homosexuals?" I asked.
"I guess they feel that the world is already over-populated," McKayla replied with a smirk. "God made us in His image. That includes people who are black, people who are white, people who like dogs and people who don't like sushi. And it includes gays and lesbians. God loves me, despite all my flaws and no matter who I have in my bed."
She squeezed my hand.
"When you hear people say, 'God hates fags' and other shit like that, they're not speaking for God," my lover said, "They're speaking for themselves. They've read His Word and have interpreted it one way, but you can use the Bible to justify just about anything."
"Like what?" I said. Not only was McKayla beautiful, but she was smart, too.
"People have used the Bible to justify slavery, misogyny, you name it. And lately, homophobia." Our breakfast was forgotten. She took my hand and led me to the back of her house, past her bedroom.
In one of the spare rooms, she had set up a small private office. In another, there were stacks and stacks of books. McKayla is a neat person. Think of every anal-retentive accountant stereotype you know and that's her.
But this room was unlike any other in her house. Along one wall, a set of mahogany bookshelves stretched from the floor to the ceiling. The shelves were filled with books of all types, but that wasn't all. On the floor, on tables, in boxes. Books were everywhere. They weren't messy; everything was in an ordered pile, but it seemed to me that she was reading books faster than she could find space on the shelves for them.
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