B la Book 3 Wrinkles in TimeChapter 3
- 5 years ago
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FidèleChapter 18 free porn video
“You woke me up... Jesus that’s good ... early. Usually, you wait until I’m about to explode.”
Pausing her energetic slurping up and down his rigid tool, she pursed her lips in disapproval. “I’ve had you in my mouth for thirty-seven minutes. It’d be far more accurate to say that you woke up late.”
Despite the intensity of his arousal, he was unable to stifle a snort at the specificity of her timekeeping. “I thought you had full control over when I woke up?”
“Love, I have full control over everything,” she growled as her lips descended once again. For many minutes she experimented with the increasing obliteration of her oral limits, changing angles and positions as she explored those that allowed her to swallow him whole, and those where anatomical resistance rendered it impossible. He was on the verge of begging for release (or at least respite) when she winked at him and applied herself with vigor, drawing a thunderous orgasm from his loins. She noisily gulped down his load, pulled back to suckle the last few drops from his sensitive glans, then leapt from the bed. Pausing at the entrance to the bathroom, she bent forward to emphasize her buttocks and looked back through her hair in salacious invitation.
“So, are you joining me in the shower, or do you need more time to recover? Last night was amazing, but now my bottom is feeling tragically neglected.”
He was, it turned out, joining her after all; a fact he realized a few minutes after his limbs moved without waiting for his climax-addled mind to make a decision.
Luke was halfway through his second cup of coffee when Kathryn abruptly kicked her chair back, crossed to his side of the table, and enveloped him from behind in a rib-crushing hug. His hands were sliding along her forearms to return the affectionate gesture when he realized that she was quietly sobbing.
“What’s wrong?” he begged, standing and turning to collect her in his arms. Her forehead pressed into his shoulder until her tremors subsided, and then she relaxed, lifting her tear-streaked face to his.
“Last night was ... it was...”
“I know. I was there.”
She managed a weak facsimile of a smile. “It’s ... yes, our lovemaking was incredible. Considerably beyond incredible, actually. But that’s not what I meant. I ... it’s...”
Be strong. Now’s not the time to dissemble. Whether this morning or a week from now, this is something we have to confront. “It’s that I wasn’t the only one there.”
Chewing on her lip, she nodded. “I’ve never felt this way before. I don’t mean,” she hastily amended, “that I’ve never felt this way about anyone, but that...” The rest refused to emerge.
He hugged her closer. “I know what you mean. You’re ... divided.” That’s a safer word than “torn,” though in the end it’s the same thing. An old song about being torn between two lovers ear-wormed its way into his head, and he winced at the distraction.
Her eyes were studying his. “I hope ... I don’t want to...” She sighed, attempting to regain her equilibrium. “Does it upset you?”
His shrug required nearly every bit of his limited acting ability. “Whether it does or not, it’s the way things are, and pretending otherwise isn’t particularly helpful. Admitting that we love each other ... out loud, I mean ... is only between us. But it’s not just...” Now it was his turn to stumble and falter against words that didn’t want to be spoken.
She sighed, paused for consideration and reconsideration, then looked at him full of earnest sadness. “I know I said I didn’t want to talk about this until next week, and I still don’t, but I don’t want to pretend the issue doesn’t exist, either. I also know you’re struggling to figure this... us ... out, and that your struggle isn’t quite the same as mine. So ask me one question — anything you want to know — and I promise I’ll answer it truthfully, even if the answer hurts. But then I want to ask you one, too.”
A million alternatives raced through his mind, but the most pressing and obvious among them — any hint or scrap of understanding that might lead him to a rational decision regarding their future — seemed too confrontational, nor did he suspect that she actually possessed the answers he sought. When he spoke, it was from blind instinct, blurting out a bald query he never expected to issue from his lips.
“Do you still love him?”
At first her eyes welled, but then her inner resolve reasserted itself. At first, all she could manage was a nod. Then: “I do. But,” she added, cupping his cheek with her hand, “I’m not able to compare it to how I love you, and maybe I never will be. I’m not certain, but I think it would be a bad idea for you to ask me to try. At least for now.” How am I supposed to interpret that? he fretted as she gave up her strength and melted back into his arms. As if she’d read his mind, she murmured into his neck, “I know it might not make much sense at the moment, but you should take it as a compliment. Love, for me, is much more than a word, and I’ve said it to far fewer people than I’ve bedded, lived with, or thought of as my partner.”
Once again, he wasn’t sure how to respond. I’ve no idea what I was fishing for with my question. I certainly didn’t think she’d say...
“What would you have done if I’d said no?”
Stalling for time, he asked, “Was that your one question?”
“Do you want it to be?”
“I’ll take that as a no. The truth is that I probably would’ve been too shocked to answer. I assumed that you did, but I guess I just needed to know.”
“Thank you. Because if you were actually surprised by the truth, I’d almost certainly think a little less of you. And you’re right, that wasn’t my question.”
“Go ahead, then.” He tensed, fearing the worst, bracing himself for an inquiry he didn’t want to hear.
“Will you be able to give us this week? No, sorry, that’s phrased incorrectly. Will you help me give us this week?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Yesterday, I begged to postpone our difficult conversations until next week. I realize that I’m the one currently violating our pact, but it isn’t just me. We have a powerful connection, Luke. One far deeper than such tender days should allow. Despite what I thought was a mighty campaign of sexual distraction — not that that was why we did any of it — here we are, only hours later, having the very conversation I didn’t want to have. And it’s largely because you’re radiating a bewilderment bordering on despair every moment we’re not naked and entwined. I know that asking you to forget or abandon your anxiety for a few more days would be a grossly quixotic request. But I need strength, too. Specifically, I need your strength, because given the situation I don’t have another source upon which to draw. Moreover, we need the strength of our love to fully understand what we’ve become. The questions we both face require that understanding, but if we can’t experience it free of doubt and distortion, we might never know what we truly have. There will be plenty of time for weakness. For now, I need you to be strong for me. For us. Please? This week, just love me and help me love you, free of complication and doubt.”
His resistance capitulated in an instant. He realized that he couldn’t deny her, wouldn’t deny her, the slightest thing. If I didn’t already know I was in love with her... But though it surrendered, it didn’t entirely disintegrate, and the resolve and yearning for courage that his conversation with Wendy helped instill wouldn’t go away. “I can only promise that I’ll do my best. You’re right: we can’t know what we are unless we allow ourselves to be. As much as I’d like to spend the entire week inside you...”
“Stop right there. You’re definitely spending the entire week inside me. I didn’t realize there was a lack of clarity on this point.”
“More a recognition of my mortality and how much your sexual aspirations threaten it,” he joked. “Anyway, the problem has been internalized, but not without difficulty. Unfortunately, I’m trapped between the demanding imperatives of the two most important women in my life.”
She lifted her face to his. To his surprise, there was a twinkle in her eye. “So I’m engaged in an argument with Wendy? I’m suddenly moved to take on some of your anxiety. She’s a formidable adversary.”
He immediately understood she was kidding, and leaned forward to kiss her. “She’s not any kind of adversary at all, nor are you two having an argument. Let’s say that her motivational violence is even more effective in verbal form than when she’s literally slapping the back of my head.”
“She knows about the last few days?”
“She knows everything about us. You’re not upset, are you?”
“Not in the slightest. You need a friend to help you get through this.”
A hint of melancholy fell across her face, and he wondered out loud, “Do you have anyone?”
“No one that knows everything. I think that will have to change, though, because I share the same need. There’s only one person it could be, but...”
“Irina.”
“Of course. Though this is a complicated burden for her to take on, because ... well, you already know why.” His loins stirred at a memory, but he forcefully brushed it aside. Not soon enough; he heard Kathryn’s low chuckle of amusement as his expanding organ slid up her thigh. “Down, boy.”
“I refuse to apologize for an assignation you essentially demanded. And given that it happened, I doubly refuse to suppress my arousal at the thought of the two of you together, no matter how impossible it would be to turn that into reality.”
“That’s fair, and since I know what she’s like in bed I can hardly blame you. So does Wendy disapprove of our declarations of love? She’s never said as much to me, though why would she?”
“She doesn’t oppose us now, but ... actually, let’s table that discussion until next week. The only thing I’ll say, which should retroactively absolve her of any and all accusations of disapproval, is that she predicted all this — exactly this — a long time ago.”
“Did she? How long ago?”
“In explicit terms, accompanied by a lot of berating and more than a little physical violence, after our day on the lake. But she insists that she knew from the very start — the night we met, I mean — and in retrospect she makes a compelling case.”
Kathryn stared at him for a long while, her eyes darkening and dilating ... not with anger, but instead revealing the turbulent depths of her soul. “Then she was wiser than both of us. The truth is, since I admitted to myself that I love you — which was a while before I admitted it to you — I’ve realized the same thing. It seemed impossible at the time, but ... Well, anyway, right now,” she said in a more determined tone, taking firm hold of his swelling cock, “If you can stop daydreaming about one or both of us having sex with my former lover, I’d like your tongue on and inside me for a while. Depending on how well you perform, we’ll see what happens next. And then, I believe, we have some actual work to do.”
Several hours later he was focused on sources of high-quality rosés — he’d spent much of the last hour on the phone with importers — when Kathryn appeared before him, grabbed his mobile, and tossed it aside. He winced as it bounced across the nearby rubber mat, but there was no audible damage. “Take your pants off.”
“Uh ... what?” He looked up at her and immediately recognized the demanding arousal in her eyes. His own blazed up in response while he did as she asked. Shedding her tights, she lowered an already drenched sex onto his stiffening cock even before it was fully erect, grinding against him while the somewhat precarious stool on which he sat creaked in protest.
“Luke ... god ... I needed ... this... yes!“ she cried, climaxing mere moments after impaling herself, then stepping away and retrieving her tights while his throbbing but unsatisfied organ bobbed in the cool cellar air, slick with her juices. He gaped in disbelief, but she insouciantly turned and walked away, picking up a few more bottles on her way to an empty rack.
Unfortunately for Luke, his arousal refused to abate, but no matter how pointed his innuendo or strident his requests, she maintained a shell of businesslike efficiency to repel both. He knew he was being ruthlessly teased and denied, and about a half hour after an uncharacteristically tense lunch, he reached his limit. He snuck up behind her, waited until she’d finished shelving a handful of bottles, then grabbed her by the shoulders, forcefully spinning her around and pushing her to her knees. She remained in place, staring at his crotch with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher, as he frantically unzipped his jeans and extracted his painfully hard spear. Grabbing the back of her head, he stabbed at her mouth. There was no resistance, for the moment he took control she opened herself to the urgency of his need. At first his shaft moved with a measure of care through her soft lips and over her cradling tongue, but he was overcome by demanding lust and started rutting faster and harder, pounding her mouth, driving the head of his cock into her throat, rearing back and delving deeper with every thrust. The wet, sloppy noises greeting every penetration were accompanied by grunts and gagging, but he didn’t let up, nor did she do anything at all to impede his inward progress.
With a roar of desperation, he slammed his groin into her face and buried his rod in her gullet, all the way down. Having conquered the field, he set about razing and ravaging it, fucking her throat with the abandon she’d asked for only a day earlier, abusing her vulnerable tissues with a savage urge to conquer and master and come. His mind numbed as the entire focus of his consciousness centered on the mounting pressure in his loins, and with a crazed roar he retreated just far enough to unload in her mouth, filling her oral cavity with a pent-up quantity of ejaculate that surpassed even her well-honed ability to swallow. Gouts of cream escaped her frantic gulping, rolling down her chin and dripping onto the cellar floor, yet still he plunged in and out, maintaining an almost cruel grip on her hair until he was completely spent and on the verge of collapse.
Releasing his hold and staggering backward, he stared at her abused face. Perspiration glistened on her forehead, saliva and semen coated her chin, and her cheeks were streaked with tears. She was a mess, and so was the floor beneath her. Crushing guilt over the unaccountable violence of his actions descended, and he opened his mouth to apologize.
“Don’t you dare,” she cautioned, dismissing his concern with a bruised smile and a blithe wave of her hand. “That was phenomenal, and despite some pretty heady competition it was also the best orgasm I’ve had all day.”
Her breezy attitude, especially after being treated with such brutality, stunned him. “Uh ... wh ... what? But you ... I mean, I didn’t touch...”
“I came, Luke. I same so fucking hard while you were having your way with me. No, that’s not precisely true; I came because you were having your way with me. That was the first time that you truly just took and used me for your own pleasure, without worrying about what I wanted or needed. It was unfathomably hot. I don’t mean that I want you to repeat it right away, or all the time — I adore all the many ways we have sex and make love — but you are going to do that again.” Rising and readjusting herself as if nothing of consequence had occurred, she thumbed a few stray globs of semen from her chin, fed them into her mouth, dried her cheeks on her sleeve, and returned to work.
Luke remained in place, his softening, saliva-slicked cock exposed and his pants crumpled around his ankles. Enraptured all over again.
“I don’t like it.”
“Really?”
“Do you?”
“No. I mean, it’s unquestionably great wine, but it’s not my style either.”
“All the smoke and vanilla is oak, right?”
“Not all of it — some of it’s just aged syrah — but most of it, yeah.”
“This is from the rack to the left of the door, isn’t it?”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because I’m not an idiot.”
“I didn’t mean that...”
“I was paying attention to the bottles I spent all day lugging around like a human wheelbarrow, you know.”
“Speaking of wheelbarrows...”
“Oh no. You don’t get to call me an idiot and then start talking about exotic sexual positions.”
“I didn’t call you an...”
“It’s a cull rack, isn’t it? Never mind, I see by your pathetic attempt to adopt an air of wounded innocence that I’m right. Didn’t I warn you to never play poker? It’s where I’ve been putting all the wines we bought back when we didn’t know what we liked. This is exactly the sort of problem we hired you to fix, and you had to know I’d see the pattern. Which brings me to an even more vexing question: if I don’t like it, and you don’t like it, why are we drinking it?”
He sighed, defeated. “It goes with the ribs, for one thing. For another, it’s way too expensive to just get rid of. But it’s a really famous and sought-after wine, and though my recommendation is going to be that you auction it off for charity, I wanted to make sure you knew what you were giving up. It’s a bottle you could bring to just about anyone’s house, and if they know anything about wine it will cause them to be somewhere between impressed and awed. You might prefer that sort of social currency to unloading it at auction, but then you’ll also have to drink it.”
“Okay, I forgive you for calling me an idiot.”
“But I didn’t...”
“Shhhhh, love. I’m just teasing you. You know, you could stand to be a little less earnest sometimes.”
He hung his head and groaned. “That’s exactly what Wendy said.”
“Apparently, she’s right about everything.”
“She said that too.”
“So I’m supposed to guess what it is, right?”
“If you want, though now you have an advantage.”
“I do, because I remember what I put in that rack.” She sniffed the brick-red liquid again, brow furrowed with concentration. “It’s the one of the Côte-Rôties, which were all from Guigal. I don’t have the skill to guess which of the three, and while I know it’s old, the vintage would be no more than a guess. ‘98?”
“It’s the La Mouline, it’s the ‘99, and I still think it’s sexy as hell that you’re so good at this. You might’ve missed your calling in life.”
“No, I was an excellent lawyer and that made me wealthy enough to buy wines I don’t like. But who knows? Maybe one day I’ll get bored and open a boutique wine shop. I understand that ninety percent of selling wine is carting boxes around, and since that’s all I’m good for these days...”
“Let me assure you that you’re good for other things.”
“Pervert. Anyway, how else is a bored housewife supposed to pass the time?” The question hovered in the air unanswered, for it abruptly reintroduced the moral irreconcilability of their relationship. “Sorry,” she continued in a quieter voice, “I shouldn’t have...”
He waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, do you want me to open something else?”
“Just how expensive is it?”
“Four- or five-hundred dollars minimum. More at auction.”
“Jesus. No, we’ll finish it, but the rest is definitely going to a charity. Let someone who actually likes it take it home with them. Anyway, the ribs are terrific, but I’m surprised you didn’t use the smoker.”
“You have a smoker?”
“Right next to the grill.”
Luke tried to picture it, but realized that the only time he’d stood near the grill, the entirety of his attention had been focused on maintaining an illusion of unencumbered bonhomie with Bill. “I guess I missed it.”
Kathryn studied his expression, then leaned back and nodded, as if she’d guessed exactly what he was thinking. “Well, it’s there whenever you want it.”
He distractedly swirled his wine, taking another deep and interrogative sniff. The obscuring layers of modernity offended his sensibilities even more than usual, but he realized that at least some of his distaste could be attributed to the effort necessary to suppress a childishly petulant retort. I wish you were, too.
They made love long into the night, driving themselves into erotic oblivion until Luke was practically comatose with exhaustion. He fell asleep with her still nursing on his defeated organ, trying to raise it from the dead.
The next morning, he struggled through thick layers of fatigue until he was awake enough to realize that, instead of fellating him, she was gently shaking him into consciousness.
“Get up. Come to the lake with me.”
“You’re kidding, right?” he mumbled.
“No. You’re going to be useless all day unless we take drastic measures.”
“Don’t want drastic measures. Want more sleep.”
“Get out of bed, caveman.” She was tugging on his arm with surprising impatience. Finally, he grumpily acquiesced, groggily scanning the room while trying to remember where he’d stashed his swimwear.
“You don’t need clothes. We’re going like this.”
She was as naked as he. “Wha ... huh? But...”
“There’s no reason to be shy. We’re alone out here.”
“But the landscapers...”
“Not for another two hours, at least. Come on.”
He blinked, squinting out the window. “The sun’s not even up yet.”
“I know. Will you stop standing there like a somnambulant log and move? I want to make you come at sunrise, and if we don’t hurry even I won’t be able to make it happen on time.”
With a goofy grin, he allowed himself to be led down the stairs, across the lawn, and onto the dock. She disappeared into the boathouse, returning with an armful of pads and spreading them around, then instructing him to lie on his back. Kneeling over him and gripping his cock, she waggled her eyebrows in delight and amusement. The sharp slap of the crisp morning air enhanced his senses, and he absorbed the raw hunger in her eyes before allowing his to roam over her exquisite body. “This is one of the only ways you’ll get to see me naked in the great and unsheltered outdoors, so enjoy it while it lasts.”
“Speaking of which, how long...”
“Just under eleven minutes.”
“You know that’s creepy, right?”
“Never tell a woman who’s about to be swallowing your ejaculate that she’s creepy.”
“But you’re a succubus. Wendy agrees with me, by the way. I think it’s completely reasonable to call a murderous sex demon creepy.”
“You’re nearly down to ten minutes. Do you want to keep up the witty banter, or do you want your cock in my throat?”
“I’m shutting up now.”
Her mouth descended, sucking half his length into her hot oral cavity. Swirling her tongue around the shaft, she slowly pulled free. “For now, keep your eyes on me. When I pat you on the stomach, turn your head to watch the sunrise.” Shaking his head at the audacious specificity of her plan, he did as she asked. She didn’t attempt to fully impale her throat as she had the last two days, but instead applied herself with vigor and urgency, quickly bringing him to the brink and then holding him there with lighter teases, kisses, caresses, and licks. He was shaking, overwhelmed by the need to come, when she glanced at the horizon and tapped him on the stomach. His eyes followed hers. All at once an angry red orb bloomed above the far shoreline, setting the lake’s mirrored surface aflame. His hips lunged as he exploded into her throat. The volume of the morning’s birdsong mounted, nearly drowning out her slurping and gulping noises as she consumed every ounce of his seed.
Drained but still erect, he stared at her in wonder. The first rays of the sun turned her hair into a crown of fire so vivid that it was difficult to stare at it for very long. Lifting her eyes to meet his — her irises seemed to glow with untapped energy — she raised an eyebrow. “I really look like a sex demon in this light, don’t I?”
Falling to his back, he pulled her on top of him. Reflexively, she reached between them to guide his spear into her eager sex.
“No. You look like an angel.”
Under her wordless direction, they reached immensely satisfying simultaneous climaxes and were locked in a blissful postcoital embrace when she suggested that they should probably head indoors.
“Surely you’re not already worried about your skin?” he wondered. “The sun’s still too low.”
“No, but the breeze is dying. That means mosquitos are on their way.”
“Ah, right,” he agreed, rising to his feet and offering her a hand.
“Besides, I needed you to stand up anyway,” she added as she took it and hoisted herself to the same position.
“Why?” he asked, basking in an erotic afterglow.
“So I could do this,” she announced. shoving him off the dock and into the frigid water. He flailed and sputtered, bobbing to the surface with a vengeful glare. “Are you awake now?” she giggled, dancing back to the safety of the lawn. But he’d disappeared from view. Moments later, he emerged on the other side of the dock, charging out of the water and racing after her. With a shriek of delight, she turned to make her escape, but she was no sprinter and he caught her after only a few steps, wrapping his arms around her waist and dragging her back towards the dock while she protested and struggled in vain. “Cold! You’re wet and cold! It was only a joke! Let me go! Luke!“
“Like hell,” he growled, tossing her off the end of the dock and watching with immense satisfaction as she sent a mighty splash of water high into the air, then diving in after her.
Twenty minutes of playful (if chilly) fondling, groping, and kissing later, they stowed the pads and raced back to the apartment, shivering but gleeful.
“You know,” he said through chattering teeth, “you deserve to be punished for that little stunt.” His imagination had been running wild since she pushed him into the lake, and as they frantically dried each other with thick towels, he recalled a conversation about things she enjoyed but that their too-short time together wouldn’t allow. Rather than answering, she wrapped her towel tight around her body and sat on the edge of the bed with an expression divided between arousal and regret. “What?” She closed her eyes and shivered, her sudden intake of breath a clear indication of something other than a mere chill. “What?“ he repeated.
“Luke ... say that again, please?”
Confused, he took a step towards her and pitched his voice lower. “I said that you deserve to be punished.” Suddenly, her hand shot out to grip his as she doubled over, emitting a short, sharp squeal.
“Are you okay?”
After a few more moments to catch her breath, she looked up at him with an expression of adoration. “You just made me come. Does that answer your question?”
His eyebrows went up. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Just from telling you that you deserved to be punished?”
She shuddered again. “Yes. And if you keep saying it that way, it might happen again.”
He grinned. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
His erection, already nearing full mast at the thought of what he was on the cusp of being allowed to do, started to flag with disappointment. “I thought ... I mean, I don’t want to presume, but don’t we have... ?”
“Enough time for the bruises to heal if you bend me over your knee and spank me through a half-dozen more orgasms?” Her breathing was labored, and he began to tumesce again.
“I thought you were kidding about that. You can actually orgasm from being spanked?”
“Luke, I just came because you were talking about spanking me, or at least something functionally equivalent. Granted, that’s partly because it’s been far too long since I have been, but do you really need an answer to that question?” She sighed. “This is all my fault.”
“I’m thoroughly confused. What’s your fault?”
“I wish you could. I really, really wish you could. God, do I want you to ... no, never mind, I have to stop thinking about it or I’m going to let you do it anyway, and I can’t.”
“I promise this isn’t me being demanding, or trying to talk you into it if you really don’t want me to, but why not?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Hmmm. Does it have something to do with your weekend plans?”
“Yes,” she answered with a mysterious glint in her eyes.
“Well, now I’m doubly intrigued.”
“You should be. I promise it’ll be worth it,” she breathed as she rose, shedding the towel and pressing her naked body against his. “And I also promise that, if the opportunity arises again, you can do all sorts of outrageously kinky things to my vulnerable flesh while I scream and weep in painful ecstasy. But not today.”
Wrapping his arms around her, he said, “While I can’t say that I’m not disappointed, I’ll look forward to it.”
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