Read Online Seventh Avenue by Norman Bogner - Free Book Online

that he had undressed himself down to his socks, and she wondered vaguely when he had done it. Except for infant boys, she never remembered seeing a man’s organ, and she stared at it with interest. She stretched out her hand until she had it, and she held it tightly in her fist, and it excited her to feel it alive in her hand. Without releasing him, she slipped down to the floor, and they sat facing each other like conspirators without a plan. Slowly he guided her head to him and before she reached him she kissed him anxiously on the mouth, moving quickly, then allowing him to guide her again. She rested her head on his lap and like a child he fed it slowly into her mouth. She held it tightly in her mouth as she had with her hand, and then he put his hands on both her cheeks and she moved her head up and down slowly, then quickly, when she sensed his excitement. He watched her, and she knew he was watching her and he stroked her lips, exciting her, and making her want to please him even more. His body became suddenly rigid, and she felt it oozing into her mouth. Almost in pain, he forced her head off with a sharp push at her forehead. He looked at her fearfully, and his face was white with shock.
    “Spit it out!”
    “That what whores do?”
    “Spit it out!”
    “Dew. Your dew.”
    She pressed her head against his chest and his warm flesh reassured her.
    “Why did you . . . ?”
    “Why? I love you, silly. It’s yours . . . it belongs to you.” She paused, lifted her head up. “Now . . . ?”
    “Have to wait a few minutes.”
    She moved her head passively back to his chest and for the first time since they had met, she felt stronger than him. She looked at him and now it was small, and there was sperm gathered at the head of the opening. She held him for a long time, until it seemed to her that her excitement had subsided. She forgot where she was and what they were doing, only that she was warm and secure. He opened the hook of her brassiere strap and then she remembered what they were doing. He cupped her breasts in his hands and slowly licked the nipples of her breasts. It gave her an uncomfortable tingling sensation, and she felt vulnerable. Then he moved himself between her legs and began rubbing against them. She bent her head and kissed it again, and it was hard and throbbing. She spread her legs, and he pushed his fingers inside her, rhythmically from side to side, forcing the lips to open. She felt wet inside, and she became embarrassed, but she did not remove his fingers. Her back was slowly edging to the floor, and then she was lying flat. He moved on top of her, but his finger still held her lips and she sensed that he was slowly moving inside her. The movement was slow and easy as though he were frightened of injuring her, and then she felt a sharp, stinging pain as if she had cut herself with a piece of jagged glass and he was pushing harder and the pain subsided but it began to irritate her flesh. He swayed from side to side, and she felt something uncontrollable, like a fever, come over her, and she moved with him to increase the feeling of fever. The fever was reaching its height, and she worked under him like a slave given a task by his master. They came together, and he rolled off her. He lay by her side gasping. When he could catch his breath, he took her face in his hands and kissed her.
    “I do love you,” he said.
    “Do you?”
    “I said . . .”
    “It’s easy to say now. Wait . . .”
    “For what?”
    “Till you’re sure that you mean it. Till you’re sure that I’m not forcing it out of you.”
    “I am sure,” he protested.
    “Then it’s all right. We’ll be okay.”
    “Good to feel you.”
    “I’ve done the right thing. I’ve done right by myself. Waiting for you. I’m sorry for what I said before, but I had to for your own good.”

 
    August, and the heat was more oppressive than ever. Jay, like Metternich before him, to whom he bore an unconscious likeness, defended