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The Quiet ManChapter 2 free porn video
I kept up a spasmodic correspondence with 'Dad' during that time. When I was about thirty five, he invited me to his wedding to an old friend of his. He agreed with me that friendship was preferable to hot love.
I attended, to both his and my surprise. I might be getting soft in my old age, but you can only keep that kind of enmity up for so long before it kind of peters out through disinterest. Sitting beside me at the reception, in someone's backyard, was a girl about my age or a bit younger. She wasn't pretty. She had a face full of character, reminding me a lot of a young Katherine Hepburn. She was well-presented, fresh faced, and make up free.
It was she who drew me into a conversation. I could have quite happily sat there without saying a word, all night. I had nothing in common with any of them, including the newly married couple. She asked me who I was here for, as she didn't recognise me; I fudged with something polite and noncommittal. It started from there. She was the bride's second youngest daughter, Gail. She introduced me to her younger sister, Vicky, and brother-in-law, Bradford, who were both seated on the other side of the paper covered trestle table. All three went quiet when I told her who I was.
Dad had talked about me, of course. I'll call him that from now on, because what else am I going to call him? At the beginning I was portrayed as a thug because I had assaulted him, her mum's long-time friend. Then when my mother let the cat out of the bag, Dad went on a guilt trip. My mum used the 'lie, blame, and deny' technique, until there was no one left to blame but herself.
It had taken Gail's mum to ask me to the wedding, because Dad couldn't face me. The girl, Gail, wondered why, after my abandonment, the lies told, and my mistreatment, I would put it all aside to come to the wedding of a man who, after everything was said and done, had almost no relationship with or to me? Even my violence towards him, was the only manner I understood at that time, to react to what had been done to me, simple immaturity and striking out. The simple answer was that one day, one of us had to grow up, and I have nominated me, and now was as good a time as any to do it.
We two danced on the grass all evening, ignoring everyone else. It turned out that it was Dad's back yard, which I hadn't known. Dancing had never been a survival necessity for me, but I did possess some social skills. It was a pleasant evening, and she was pleasant company. In fact, it was more pleasant than any evening I could remember, for a long, long time. I neither wanted, nor expected, anything further; just another instance of 'ships passing in the night'.
Dad and I hugged when I left and the party was running down, though he did make an odd statement: "Be kind to Gail, as she deserves all the kindness she can get." This struck me as odd, as I was unlikely to see the girl again, and I had practically decided to become a confirmed bachelor due to my total distrust of women. Their experiences with me, and mine with them, had not been filled with trust and bonhomie.
I realised long ago that women are not simply the same thing as men, but with a different body structure. Their morality, psychology, philosophy and physiology are vast worlds apart from men. That usually alienated me completely. I have met some gay men who had the same make psychological up, and I haven't liked them. Some lesbians I get on with, like a brother. There are a lot of both types, amongst the University crowd.
The married women in the company at North Wyong use to fuck me until their legs gave out. Then they went home to safe old hubby, cooked his tea, and claimed to have a headache for his bi-monthly nooky. Even the ones I weren't screwing used to loudly joke about it.
Dad's house was at Arncliffe, not far from the airport, and I was staying overnight at a local motel on the highway not far away. Both were on the same flight-path and large passenger jets were continuously passing overhead, but the motel was well insulated for noise.
Five minutes after I kicked my shoes off in the room that looked like every other motel room in the country (and probably the world, for all I know), there was a very timid knock on the door. I answered the knock puzzled, as I hadn't told anyone about where I was staying, and it was very late at night. Gail was with Bradford, and she meekly asked if she could come in. Bradford was only making sure that she was safe. I ushered her in, and Bradford said goodnight and immediately left, though it could be more accurate to say he fled. To say I was puzzled was really an understatement.
Gail needed to talk. She had been impressed that I was such a quiet, gentle man. I wasn't a blowhard, forcing my opinions on others, and I didn't treat a woman as if her opinions weren't important. I actually did listen to whatever she had to say, though usually without comment. I was a massively strong man who didn't find a need to force that strength onto others, which most large men seemed to believe, was their right, by might. She seemed to have made a lot of assumptions from a pleasant conversation in a very noisy back yard. I couldn't find fault in any of her conclusions. Mainly because I'd like to believe that what she had said; was, in fact, me.
"Ross, this is the first time that I have spoken to a man, outside my family, for ten years. Ten years ago, I was twenty, and in a relationship with a young man who became more, and more, deranged and violent with time, until I decided to break it off. The young man went completely off the deep end and slashed my body, over, and over again, with a 5Stanley knife. It took years of skin grafts and plastic surgery to make me look like a human, again. Psychologically, he destroyed me. I now scream with terror when a man comes near me."
"I hate to state the obvious, but I had one of the most pleasant conversations tonight with one of the nicest girls I've met for years. I presume you are under psychoanalysis, and whoever has helped you has done a marvellous job."
"As of yesterday, I was considered a hopeless case. As of yesterday, I had to be kept isolated from men and even a lot of women. Tonight was the last trial by fire to see how I would cope."
"Again, I hate to state the obvious, but you're so calm. It's as if you've been sedated, but you aren't showing any physical signs of that, so you are not that way with me."
"Yes, you're right, and I feel like I could talk to you all night."
"I suspect both of us will need to go to sleep, eventually. I, personally, have had a very long day. Tomorrow," I looked at my watch, "umm ... today, is Sunday. I don't have to drive home until Monday at the earliest. Would you like me to take you home? We can spend tomorrow, together. I'll visit you, discussing anything you like, all day."
"Would you be offended if I asked to stay here, with you, tonight? If you could try to not have sex with me, until at least we know each other a bit better, and we can just hold each other; I'd be so grateful! Maybe, in time, we could carry things a little bit further?"
I sighed, thinking that sex with this girl is quite possibly the furthest thing from my mind.
"If you can't or won't, I'll understand, but this has been such a big step for me, already. I don't know how I'll react."
"Gail, I think you misunderstand me. Let's get into bed. We can talk until we fall asleep." She began to get under the sheets fully dressed, "No, uh. Naked together. I think you will appreciate skin on skin, just as much as the next person."
She was nervous, and her fingers refused to work. Her hands shook she tried so hard. She wept tears of frustration. I undressed her like a mannequin. Then I undressed myself. I held her hand as I led her into the bathroom, so we could shower and go to the toilet. I treated everything as though it were normal, and so did she. We were like an old married couple who had been around each other, naked, for many years. I could see her residual scars, and I ignored them as immaterial. They had been massive and all over her. Her breasts appeared as if they had been a main focus of the attack.
I didn't get an erection, and didn't expect to get one. There was nothing sexy in any of this; for me anyway and I think it unlikely to affect her, this way either. We washed each other, and she took careful interest in my penis. Women always have, because it is sort of largish. Most women are curious but their curiosity often stops before full insertion, and until I prepare them properly. That's the fun part, the preparation. The sex act itself, at the end, is more of an anticlimax to me.
We dried each other, and I spent some time towel drying her hair and massaging her scalp with my fingers, which I think gave both of us much pleasure. Her hair is a deep auburn red in colour, about nineteen eighties men's styled, longer than a man's was in the fifties and shorter than the late sixties, quite manageable and easy to keep neat. If you have ever seen a mature Downs Syndrome person walking around shopping with their elderly parents, it's blatantly obvious that their hair has been styled to simplify the parent's life, not so the person can look attractive. That's how her hair was styled, to suit someone else's agenda.
I walked behind her using my hands, not my body, to herd her towards the bed. I turned the blankets back and climbed in, before her drawing her in behind me. I covered us and just pulled us together to mould our bodies.
"Okay, young lady, what would you like to discuss?"
"Nothing specifically, but I have met a beautiful heterosexual man who I can actually talk to on intelligent subjects, as an equal. Just being near him makes me want to masturbate. All he requires of me is company, and he has not pressed me to do anything outside that. This is lovely, just lying here being held. You haven't gotten hard, and every time I was with my old boyfriend he became hard if he just touched my breast. I can't imagine what he would have done if we had actually got naked together."
"It has always struck me that the male of our species tends to become erect when he experiences something he found exciting, or different, or erotic. The female body has few surprises for me and the person herself must have something different for me to have an instant erection, usually personality wise. If I started to make love to you ... and I do intend to, and I will take my time ... I will almost certainly become as hard as a rock. Visual things don't turn me on much. Active, ah, stimulation of the other person is necessary for me. That's just me, mind you. Everyone is different."
"Your penis is bigger than others I have seen. I have only seen my late father when he had a shower; and my brother, who died in Viet Nam, because we use to muck around together. I've never been sure what he did to me was rape or not. He was always hard, too. I never saw him soft. Yet when it was hard, it was smaller than yours is, soft. My girlfriends use to brag how big their boyfriends were. Is it important?"
"To my experience, no ... look, from what I understand, I've been told by old girlfriends..."
"Don't you have a girlfriend, now?"
"No. I have, as a rule, lost interest in having girlfriends ... unless they want to leave it just that way, as friends. Most women want to become more serious. I haven't been serious over a girl since I was fifteen. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah! The size of a man; I used to work with a bloke named Robin, who was short, maybe five two or three. He was dead ordinary looking, very short and had a hunched back. He was rung a half a dozen times a day at work, by girls wanting to go out with him. He used to joke about how small he was, in every way.
"Old girlfriends of mine have told me that it's not the size but how you use it. To my knowledge, most of the sensitive nerve endings inside a vagina are at the front, directly behind your clitoris and around the inner labia. Deep inside, there is very little sensation, except where something oversized stretches to expand the vaginal passage, some like that feeling, some don't.
"A girl who lived with me on weekends for two years, use to have a short vaginal passage, and often during sex I inadvertently entered her cervix, which hurt her at first, until she found she was enjoying it. Eventually, our doctor told me we had to stop that, as I beginning to cause her physical damage. I have been told being filled to overflowing can be pleasurable for some women, and as painful as hell for others. An old friend of mine once told me that the best orgasm she had ever experienced was when she was giving birth.
"I once experienced a time when I couldn't find work, and I was starving. Bananas were everywhere, and free, so for a couple of weeks I ate nothing but bananas. Today, just the smell of bananas is enough to make me feel nauseous. Some things you like or dislike, big pricks, small cunts, strawberries, whole-wheat bread ... you can be born with it, innate; or learnt, like bananas, from some unfortunate experience; attained, like your fear of men for instance. If I'm lecturing, I'm sorry." I was pulling at one of her tiny and expanding nipples, for something to do with my hand, one of hers enclosed my penis like she was holding a baby bird, her thumb was wiping over the urethra at a little drop of precome. It felt quite nice.
"I masturbate, at night." Her face was resting on my shoulder and breast, and it felt rather hot all of a sudden. "I think of pictures I've seen of naked people, and what my brother and I used to do. You're squeezing my nipple and it makes me want to come like when I masturbate, but I am too embarrassed, and I'm not sure if I should be. My late brother used to make me come, but we were both very young and we didn't really know what we were doing. He would be your age, now. I was only nine or ten when we started, and he was fifteen or so. We stopped when he was called up and went away. I have no idea why I didn't get pregnant, as we were still doing it after I hit puberty, and my periods began. I have never told anyone else about my brother and me, not even my psychiatrist or the rest of my family. Legally, I guess it was rape; but I was so curious, and it felt so good. At the end I loved my brother not like a sister, but I had huge crush on him. I was devastated when he went away, and inconsolable when he died.
When I met that boyfriend, I thought he would be the same as Ronnie, my brother, he wasn't and you can see how that went. He cut my breasts into four and they had to sew them back together again and I won't know if I can breast feed until I become pregnant. Ross, will you make love to me please? I need, I need, something, and I'm not sure what, but I really need you. I need you very badly."
When I'm put into situation where I have not a clue as to how to react, I have the ability of not thinking. I go totally blank inside, and allow myself to react using my automatic reflexes. This is a prime example of such a situation. I kissed her lips, until she realised that you use your tongue during a kiss. She was still kissing like that ten year old.
I continued with one hand squeezing and tugging at a nipple, my other hand slid between her legs and entered her vagina, my pointers stroked in and out, as my thumb swirled around where her clit should be. It hadn't raised its head, yet. I hooked my pointers inside behind her clit, and my thumb swirled around where her clit was. Then I used my pointer and middle finger as the button of her clit grew to the size of a boil, and then she came. It began with a groan, which became a cry, which turned into a scream; and her button disappeared completely, again.
I took my thumb from directly on her clit, and my fingers began to saw in and out, again. I lowered myself down until my lips sucked on her other nipple and I moved my middle finger, wet from her juices, into her anus and my two fingers fucked a hole each, then I swirled her clit again with my thumb until it grew and she came convulsively again, straight into a scream this time which turned into a moan of monosyllables then she continued coming with curse words combined with my name. For someone with so little contact with other people, she had an amazing vocabulary of obscene swear words, with which she included my name admirably, and always in perfect context. I now shifted my tongue to lick my way from her breast through her navel and into her vulva and concentrated my tongue where her clit sat in hiding.
I inserted my pointer into her anus, and my thumb inside her vagina and she expanded under my tongue and this time she made me glad that that I kept my hair short as one of her hands was trying to force my head into her vagina. The other hand was attempting to tear my hair out by the roots while her legs were wrapped tightly around my neck attempting to strangle me. Her scream of completion was ear splitting.
She gripped my ears, and dragged me bodily up so we looked into each other's eyes.
"Fuck me, I don't care what's right or wrong, we can deal with the results later in any way we want, but you have got to put yourself inside me and treat me as your woman, because I am. Now fuck me!"
No condoms and I had no intention of pulling out. She had got to me, somehow, but I needed to get in. After three thwarted pushes, each further desperate plunge, delving a little deeper, I hit rock bottom. I fucked her hard, almost violently, and she was screaming all the time. I had absolutely no control over anything. I came and I could feel the squish of the semen splash out of her, covering my balls with backwash.
She screamed once more, quite lucidly, "I love you, Ross!"
I tried to take my weight off her as I am a very big man, she stopped me, holding me to her, with arms crossed like cable ties behind my back and around my neck and her legs clamped around my waist.
I was still on top of her next morning. The sun was streaming through the motel's Venetian blinds. I could hear the light rattle caused by them, against the windows, from the vibration caused by the heavy vehicles on the highway. One of Gail's arms was locked around my neck, as were her legs around my hips just as when we went to sleep. The other one of her hands was first stroking my hair then up and down my spine. Either my erection hadn't gone down overnight, or bladder body pressure had brought it back up again. She was staring into my eyes.
Vera
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