between the meeting of my breasts. 'Hey,' I protested.
'Forget it, Kate. Try concentrating on one thing at a time.'
He had a point there.
'Will I feel anything?' I asked, probing the soft, silky walls.
'You might.' He squirmed under my manipulations. 'You might feel a firm swelling, about the size of a walnut.'
'Oh! There it is. I feel it.'
Joe felt it, too. He moaned loudly, his body undulating against the sheet, his cock stiffening between my breasts. 'Rub it, Kate. Yes, right there. A little harder. Long strokes. That's it. Just like that.'
Massaging the hidden gland was like doubling the voltage through a wire. Within seconds, he was panting and shaking. His movements ragged, he took me in his mouth again. With one taut hand, he cupped the side of my breast, pressing it against his rigid shaft to make a cosy tunnel. He must have wanted to thrust but he kept himself on a brutally short rein, making do with tight jerks of his hips. Everything followed the rhythm with which I rubbed his hot spot - his abbreviated thrusts, his sucking, his repeated gasps for air.
With that kind of inspiration, I came long before he did, in a shower of sparks that burst from the heart of my sex and spread out in delicious rippling tingles, making my back bow and my toes curl.
'Again,' he pleaded, bucking harder between my breasts. 'Come again, Kate.' But I was determined not to miss his fireworks.
They were worth waiting for, too. A warning flush darkened his body a second before he came and his anus clamped my fingers like a vice. It took all my strength to continue the massage, but it was worth it to hear his rapturous groan, to feel his seed shooting hot and strong along my belly. He settled slowly, still twitching as I petted him down.
'Man, you wrung me out,’ he said in a tone of amazement.
I wriggled around until we lay face-to-face. His eyes were closed but he pulled me into a sweaty embrace.
'I need a nap,’ he mumbled. 'Wake me in an hour.'
An hour? I thought. Try eight.
In actuality, it was more like thirty minutes - and he woke me. The next time was slow and sweet. Sensing my exhaustion, he rocked me like a baby in a cradle, keeping me on the brink for ages. When I was ready to weep with longing, he pushed us both over the edge in a deep, muscle-wrenching climax. I stayed awake long enough to sample the brandy-soaked pears he'd finally remembered making, after which I sank into a billow of pleasant dreams.
At
3 a.m.
, a metallic rattle disrupted my slumber. Heart pounding, I bolted up in bed. Someone was trying to force the lock on the front door.
I flashed back to the months following my divorce when I was a woman alone in a big city living in a creaky old house that, for all I knew, was haunted by the ghost of my dear-departed lesbian aunt. Mind you, Aunt Sally loved me enough to bequeath me the house, but she was also the sort to drop in uninvited, just to say 'hi'. Frankly, I didn't welcome a visit from the Other Side any more than I welcomed a visit from a burglar.
A snore from Joe returned me to the present. Thank God. 'Joe, wake up.' I shook his shoulder. 'Wake up!' ' Wha -?' He lifted his head and rubbed his eyes. 'I think someone's trying to break into the house.' His head flopped back down. ' Prob'ly Sean.' 'Sean has a key.'
‘ Prob'ly drunk,’ he said, and closed his eyes again. 'Knew he wouldn't stay away all night.'
To a panicked woman, who was only half-awake, this conclusion represented too big a leap to reassure. I grabbed the fireplace poker I kept for just such an emergency.
Joe struggled up on his elbow. 'Don't bash him. He's the best friend I've got.'
I should have bought a dog, I thought, clumping down two flights of stairs with the poker held before me like a sword. A big, scary dog with sharp teeth and a loud bark. Something crashed in the vicinity of the kitchen. I froze. Then I heard a curse that was, indeed, familiar. It was Sean.
I flicked on the light and found him trying to
'Forget it, Kate. Try concentrating on one thing at a time.'
He had a point there.
'Will I feel anything?' I asked, probing the soft, silky walls.
'You might.' He squirmed under my manipulations. 'You might feel a firm swelling, about the size of a walnut.'
'Oh! There it is. I feel it.'
Joe felt it, too. He moaned loudly, his body undulating against the sheet, his cock stiffening between my breasts. 'Rub it, Kate. Yes, right there. A little harder. Long strokes. That's it. Just like that.'
Massaging the hidden gland was like doubling the voltage through a wire. Within seconds, he was panting and shaking. His movements ragged, he took me in his mouth again. With one taut hand, he cupped the side of my breast, pressing it against his rigid shaft to make a cosy tunnel. He must have wanted to thrust but he kept himself on a brutally short rein, making do with tight jerks of his hips. Everything followed the rhythm with which I rubbed his hot spot - his abbreviated thrusts, his sucking, his repeated gasps for air.
With that kind of inspiration, I came long before he did, in a shower of sparks that burst from the heart of my sex and spread out in delicious rippling tingles, making my back bow and my toes curl.
'Again,' he pleaded, bucking harder between my breasts. 'Come again, Kate.' But I was determined not to miss his fireworks.
They were worth waiting for, too. A warning flush darkened his body a second before he came and his anus clamped my fingers like a vice. It took all my strength to continue the massage, but it was worth it to hear his rapturous groan, to feel his seed shooting hot and strong along my belly. He settled slowly, still twitching as I petted him down.
'Man, you wrung me out,’ he said in a tone of amazement.
I wriggled around until we lay face-to-face. His eyes were closed but he pulled me into a sweaty embrace.
'I need a nap,’ he mumbled. 'Wake me in an hour.'
An hour? I thought. Try eight.
In actuality, it was more like thirty minutes - and he woke me. The next time was slow and sweet. Sensing my exhaustion, he rocked me like a baby in a cradle, keeping me on the brink for ages. When I was ready to weep with longing, he pushed us both over the edge in a deep, muscle-wrenching climax. I stayed awake long enough to sample the brandy-soaked pears he'd finally remembered making, after which I sank into a billow of pleasant dreams.
At
3 a.m.
, a metallic rattle disrupted my slumber. Heart pounding, I bolted up in bed. Someone was trying to force the lock on the front door.
I flashed back to the months following my divorce when I was a woman alone in a big city living in a creaky old house that, for all I knew, was haunted by the ghost of my dear-departed lesbian aunt. Mind you, Aunt Sally loved me enough to bequeath me the house, but she was also the sort to drop in uninvited, just to say 'hi'. Frankly, I didn't welcome a visit from the Other Side any more than I welcomed a visit from a burglar.
A snore from Joe returned me to the present. Thank God. 'Joe, wake up.' I shook his shoulder. 'Wake up!' ' Wha -?' He lifted his head and rubbed his eyes. 'I think someone's trying to break into the house.' His head flopped back down. ' Prob'ly Sean.' 'Sean has a key.'
‘ Prob'ly drunk,’ he said, and closed his eyes again. 'Knew he wouldn't stay away all night.'
To a panicked woman, who was only half-awake, this conclusion represented too big a leap to reassure. I grabbed the fireplace poker I kept for just such an emergency.
Joe struggled up on his elbow. 'Don't bash him. He's the best friend I've got.'
I should have bought a dog, I thought, clumping down two flights of stairs with the poker held before me like a sword. A big, scary dog with sharp teeth and a loud bark. Something crashed in the vicinity of the kitchen. I froze. Then I heard a curse that was, indeed, familiar. It was Sean.
I flicked on the light and found him trying to
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