Sex in the Sky

The state university was cosmopolitan enough to make my local college seem quaint as a backwood’s village. There was, for example, a gay student’s union and courses on gay literature. If rumor spoke true, there was not only a gay bar in town, but a lesbian coffee house. Had I wanted to creep out of my closet I could have, and I did consider it.

This was a fresh start. I could do things differently this time around. The sticking point was this: would Beef have reacted any differently if I’d told him I was gay the moment we’d met? On the one hand, he probably wouldn’t have felt humiliated and betrayed when his girlfriend broke the news, and so probably wouldn’t have beaten the shit out of me. But homophobic as he’d seemed, I didn’t think that he would have treated me, as Irene had put it, like a human being. Then again, maybe I’d get lucky this time and have a gay roommate. Lucky, yeah. My experience in the alley said there was no guarantee that a fellow homosexual was going to treat me any better.

Maybe I could talk someone into letting me room with lesbian?

In the end, it was a simple lack of courage decided me to stay in closet until and unless I learned that coming out wasn’t going to push any red buttons. Just to be on the safe side, I also resolved to keep things cool. This time around I would share a room and nothing more.

The dorms at the university were amazing to my small town eyes. The floors alternated in gender, one all male, the next all female and so on up. This was fine by me. Girls might actually come to my rescue if I got beaten up again. There was also a vast, downstairs lounge next to the cafeteria. It had a ski lodge fireplace, warm wood furniture and a billiard table. Opulent and intimidating compared to the ratty common room that had graced my old dorm

As for the individual rooms, they were painted a sky blue and had two separate beds as well as two built in desks. I breathed a sigh of relief. Far easier to keep from stepping on a roommate’s toes that way. Mine was on the second floor. I put on a brave face even though I was quaking inside. I had hoped that I’d be the first one there, but as luck had it my roomie was not only in residence but firmly ensconced.

I stepped in to the sounds of folky music and the delicious aroma of vanilla coffee. There were posters from old folk concerts on one wall. I mean, old. Groups like “The Weavers” and “Odetta”. There was a microfridge, a coffee maker, and several jars of candy on a side table.

There was a banjo and an acoustic guitar in the corner, for God’s sake!

“Hey, roomie.” The young man at the window-side desk turned from a beautiful, new Apple iMac computer, the machine issuing the folky music, and rose to his feet. I lost all breath and my heart stopped cold. He was gorgeous, hair as golden brown as maple syrup and eyes the green of sweet basil. He looked to be an even six feet and far more muscled and healthy than me. The kind of guy who works out regularly, but not obsessively.

The window behind him was steamed from the heat of the room and frosted around the edges. It was snowing outside, after all, but he was dressed in summer shorts and a tee-shirt. I’d learn later that he tended to run hot. The hair on his bare arms and legs shimmered like wisps of caramel.

He had a smile to die for, one of the brightest I’d ever seen.

Ah, fuck.

“Hey,” I said, gritting my teeth and girding my loins, as it were, against every hormonal inclination to worship him.

He put the music on pause. “Geoffrey with a ‘G,’” he offered me his hand.

I pretended not to see it as I swung my duffle onto the empty bed. “Jace.”

“You want some coffee? It’s French vanilla.”

I remembered what had happened to my coffee cup, smashed to powder by my last roommate. “No thanks.” Beef and I used to trade off buying the instant coffee. I figured from now on I’d just rely on paper cups and the cafeteria for my morning brew.

“New here?” Geoff’s cheer never flagged.

“Yeah.” I struggled out of my coat and scarf. “Just transferred.”

“Junior?”

“Yeah.”

“Same here. I’m pre-law with a minor in music.”

“Business major,” I said, pulling my things out of the duffle. I deposited my meager belongings into some built-in drawers. I paused as I lifted the duffle and realized that it wasn’t empty; there, tucked away on one side, was the black and gold afghan. While living with the Norrises I’d sometimes wandered around with it draped over my shoulders. Not because I was cold but because it comforted me. I guess they’d understood. Irene had snuck it into my duffle.

God bless her.

I shook it out across the bed, brushing it down carefully. It carried the pine and sugar cookie smell of the Norrises’ home. I suddenly felt a little better, a little safer. Who says adults are too old for security blankets? I’d have to write to them. “Does this place have wireless?” I asked my new roomie.

He was back on his desktop. “Yeah.”

I settled on the bed and got to work on my first e-mail. So far, so good.

#

*Geoff*

My new roomie was a puzzle. He practically ignored me when he first arrived. Not in the way some roomies do as if he felt the whole room ought to be his, but as if I were…dangerous. Yeah. As if I were dangerous and he didn’t want to attract my attention.

I swear that’s how he looked when I first saw him there in the doorway. He had these arresting Goth looks: skin pale, hair blue-black. Teasingly thin. His jeans looked ready to drop right off his narrow hips, which would have been fine with me.

Friends tell me I have no restraint, no caution. If see a fountain on a hot summer’s day, I wade into it. If someone calls for help, I come running. And if I see a guy who makes my cock twitch and my palms sweat, I proposition him, on my knees if necessary. This lack of restraint sometimes turns people off and so I’ve been working on, well, restraining it. I’d sworn, in fact, that I’d take it slow with the new roomie. But damn. I wanted to ask him how he felt about having sex with guys and then find out if he liked having his nipples bitten. I wondered if his fragrance was as dark as his hair and what sounds he’d make if I ran my tongue over his backbone, all the way down to his tight ass.

I leashed in my impulses, but it was hard. My new roommate was as tempting as a cup of bitter black coffee; Add to this his tragic expression, which stirred my over zealous desire to protect and avenge and you could say that I was in love.

He, on the other hand, just stood there, dazed and absorbing my candy jars and posters. I knew without asking that he didn’t like my music. No one does. I like the “Kingston Trio” for Christ’s sake. Finally, he turned those dark eyes on me.

I gave him my best smile, the one meant to cloud men’s minds and stir their cocks.

His response was a shocker. He looked as if I’d just kicked him in the groin and was going to do it again. And again. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who regarded one of my smiles as a deadly weapon.

Okay, so maybe I was reading him wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time. I paused my offensive music and offered him my hand along with my name. He returned his, Jace, but he didn’t take my hand. It wasn’t a snub, his expression was too apprehensive.

Hmmm. Methinks we have a phobic. One of those guys who lives in terror of being touched? Or just afraid of sharing air with a stranger? Poor bastard.

I felt even more sorry for him when I realized the one duffle he’d dragged in was all he had. He was able to stow all his stuff in two small drawers. But his tense shoulders relaxed when he brought out a black afghan patterned with a yellow star and spread it out on the bed.

Was that it, I wondered, a little dismayed. Was that the only bit of himself he was going to put out? My last roomie had covered his side with photos of busty women, neon-colored beanbag pillows and a collection of vintage “Hotwheels”. Just about everyone living in the dorms had CD’s, games, an alarm clock. This guy hadn’t any of that. Shit. He made “me” feel ostentatious and I knew I wasn’t that bad.

He asked about wireless and sat down on the bed with a small, white iBook that had seen better days. So much for getting-to-know-you. I gotta say I was disappointed, and worried. We were going to be stuck together in this room for an entire semester. I kinda hoped we’d at least be friends.

He didn’t seem like a complete asshole, that at least. And I wasn’t about to give up. That wasn’t in my nature.

#

*Jace*

Geoff was damn difficult to resist.

At first, I was able to avoid him simply because when I wasn’t working my ass off with class work, I was working it off at a nearby coffee house clearing tables. You might wonder why I always went for busboy jobs. It’s because they didn’t require any concentration and I didn’t need to interact with people, just dirty dishes. I wrote and organized essays and assignments in my head while bussing tables. It made the actual writing a breeze.

Eventually, however, I got so efficient at the schoolwork that I ended up with some free time. As I didn’t have any friends and no spare cash to waste, I spent that time in the room composing e-mails or trolling the internet.

That’s how Geoff managed to get to me. As he had a desktop computer, he had to be in the room to read his e-mail and do his schoolwork. Thing was, he had a ton of friends and, I gathered, a loving family, all of whom sent him humorous e-mails. He’d sit there at his desk, reading and laughing this brave, contagious laughter. The kind that makes you want to look up and ask “What’s so funny?” so you can share in the joke.

That’s the first thing that got to me.

When he wasn’t charming me with his laughter he was driving me crazy with his folk music. He wouldn’t just practice the songs on banjo or guitar, he’d perform them. Like when he’d strum out his rendition of “Uncle John’s Band” and dance around. He’d bounce off walls and lean in so close to me that I could see the thick, golden lashes surrounding those green eyes.

“Will you come with me?” he’d sing-songingly demand before spinning away. The worst of it was…he was good. I hated the music, but I couldn’t deny his talent. He had a sweet tenor voice and banjo or guitar when those fingers were moving over those stings….

Well, my pulse got a little faster and I had visions of those hands strumming particular portions of my anatomy.

“Why do you want to be a lawyer?” I finally asked him. “I mean,” I added coolly as I could, “You seem to like music more.”

He plucked at the banjo with one hand while adjusting the music program on his computer with his other. “I’ve a superhero complex.”

“Come again?”

“I want to save the world. That’s why I like folk music. Folk musicians used to be inspirational voices, the music of protest and change. Now that job belongs to the lawyers, more or less. So it’s law for me.”

The banjo plucking picked up and grew complex. He started to sing. A love song. A stupid, soppy love song.

“I’ll do anything to keep you satisfied—” he promised in that warm, earnest voice.

I alternated between wanting to fall at his feet screaming, “Take me! Take me!” and smashing the damn acoustic instruments over his dreamy head so I wouldn’t have to listen to another fucking folk tune.

Not that he was a bad roomie. A little sloppy, but he never let his untidiness fall onto my side. His snores were soft and he always stepped out to take his cellphone calls. What few chores were to be done he did them and he never once asked me to change my habits.

As the weeks went by, he grew more and more clever at getting around my defenses, like when he plied me with food. He’d leave a note on my bed saying that he hadn’t been able to finish the pizza he’d ordered up and would I take the remaining slices off his hands? He also kept a seemingly endless supply of dark chocolate gelato in the almost non-existent, microfridge freezer. How the fuck did he know about my weakness for dark chocolate? Whenever he’d take one out he’d hand one to me as well.

I think he wanted to fatten me up.

“It’s the dead of winter and you’re making us eat ice cream,” I finally complained, even as I licked that delectable chocolate off the end of a plastic spoon.

“It’s warm enough in here for it.”

That’s what he was like “all the time”. I mean all the time. I never saw him lose his warmth or good cheer. I suppose some might have found it wearying, but dark souls like me…we adore such suns. The dead weight inside of us needs that much more power to overcome our freezing inertia.

Of course, I wasn’t the only satellite he attracted. He had only to sit down in the lounge and girls would snuggle up next to him. Guys would stop and hang. He welcomed both into his beatific orbit. I had no idea which way he leaned, but it was clear that he could have anyone he wanted, anyone at all. I was half amazed that I never caught him in bed with a naked partner or two or three.

I waited with jealous dread for him to tell me, “Jace, buddy, I’m having someone special over tonight, could you, ah, absent yourself?” That’s how Beef had always put it, leaving me to sleep away the night in the common room.

But Geoff never said it, never seemed to have a steady other. He didn’t even create a privacy signal with me, like a sock over the doorknob. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or apprehensive. I’d caught a glimpse of lube and multi-colored condoms in one of his drawers, so I knew he wasn’t into celibacy. So what was the deal with him? The uncertainty made me all the more sour to him when we were together.

Problem was, nothing put him off. “Skin cracking?” he asked one morning. We had worked out a pattern by then. The alarm would buzz and I’d be out the door, shower caddie in hand for morning ablutions. Geoff stayed in the room, wrapped in his robe, answering e-mails until I returned. Then he hit the showers. I hadn’t yet figured out if he did this out of courtesy, so I wouldn’t have to dress in front of him, or because I just took the right amount of time for him to finish that first cup of coffee.

“Yeah,” I admitted. The air outside the dorm was winter dry, and inside, thanks to the heating, it was worse. My skin had started to get scaly and itch. “It’s getting really bad. Lotion doesn’t seem to help.” I was a little embarrassed to have him looking at me. Unlike Geoff, I didn’t own a robe. I went to the showers in a tee and shorts and came back wrapped in a towel. Usually all Geoff saw of me was a glimpse as I came back and he went out. But he was lingering a bit longer this morning.

“Try this next time.” He pulled a bottle of baby oil from his shower basket. I was suddenly aware of his robe, open enough to display the golden hair on his thighs. I wanted to bury my face in that soft hair, smell up close the muskiness emanating from his crotch.

My cock jumped and started to come to attention under the towel. Shit. “Baby oil?” I said disdainfully. I wonder if he saw the panic in my eyes. Did he know that I sometimes jerked off while thinking about him?

“While you’re still wet, rub it over yourself then pat dry.”

“That works?”

“Like a charm,” he promised, tactfully ignoring my erection and the blush that went with it.

I did try it. And it did work. Fucker. I never met anyone so damn considerate. Like when he finally figured out that I never drank the coffee he offered me because I didn’t have a coffee mug.

“Here,” he said and set a newly purchased black mug of steaming coffee by my hand. “You’ve got to try this hazelnut.” That’s all he said. From then on that black mug, filled with fresh coffee was waiting for me when I got back from my shower.

I always rinsed the mug and put it back on Geoff’s desk to remind myself that it wasn’t “my” mug. But his overtures didn’t stop there.

“A friend burned this mix for me,” he said another time. “He wanted me to check it out but it’s all punk. I can’t listen to it.” And he handed it to me.

A friend my ass. I’d seen him buying songs off the internet and burning that CD himself. I took it anyway. I was desperate to escape the folk music.

“Need headphones?” he’d added. “You can take this pair, I don’t need them any more.”

I took them, but my hands sweated. This was exactly how it had started with Beef. Simple roommate sharing. And would Geoff be smashing that CD underfoot when I finally pushed his red button, whatever that happened to be?

Much as my paranoia insisted it would be wiser to reject or ignore his overtures, I couldn’t seem to refuse. It wasn’t just that I had it bad for him, it was that I wanted “a friend”. Desperately. I was like a child accepting candy from a stranger, letting my defenses down as he lured me farther and farther from safety.

I was, I suppose, in the greatest danger of my life.

#

*Geoff*

Getting to know Jace was rather like digging for buried treasure. A lot of work, but oh, the rewards. The more I learned, the more he amazed me. He was good as roommates go, excellent some would say. He never stepped over to my side unless invited, cleaned up after himself, never complained about my habits or snoring, never left his clothes lying about. Then again, he didn’t have that many clothes. With patient prying I found out he was a scholarship student. He not only worked to pass his classes, but to maintain that scholarship. On top of this, he also held a part-time job bussing tables.

I mean, Jesus. My family’s not rich and I’ve held the odd summer job, but when I hit eighteen that college fund was waiting for me. Compared to Jace, I was positively privileged.

People say I’m filled with boundless energy, but Jace had boundless diligence. He made me feel like a slacker. I wanted to help, of course, but I knew he wouldn’t take charity. So I tried other ways to give him things. Like the music. Contrary to popular belief, I “am” up on modern music and I’ve only to get an idea of what a person likes to be able to mix them a pretty good album. Jace liked punk. Which surprised me as I pegged him as Goth. Maybe he wasn’t as quiet and restrained as he seemed? I legally downloaded a combo of old punk rarities and new gems and burned him a disk. He was too desperate to escape my folk tunes to refuse.

“How’s the music,” I asked after seeing him air-drumming with the songs. “Good?”

He shrugged. “S’kay.”

Meaning he liked them. Food was another venue I used. I deliberately ordered or brought in more food than I could possibly eat so there’s be leftovers. Then I made it seem like he’d be doing me a great favor if he’d eat that other sandwich or finish off the Thai take-out.

I wanted to fatten him up, he was so skinny. Hungry, that was Jace. And not just in the body. His eyes were hungry. Sometimes I’d catch him eyeing me as if he was starving to death. It broke my heart. But any overt attempt to get near him just turned him to ice.

And then there were a few things I did for my own amusement. Like the ice cream. It was a sensual pleasure watching him lick and taste and suck gelato off a plastic spoon. Or like when I flashed the baby oil. Usually I respected his boundaries, including the one that said he wasn’t comfortable with either of us being naked. I always showered up while he dressed for that reason. But that morning I just wasn’t able to resist. I was pretty smug about the promising reaction the oil got. His erection almost ripped off his towel.

I thought I knew what that response meant. Then I learned a few things that put me in doubt.

“You got siblings?” I asked him one evening.

Jace stiffened up and I knew it must be a sore point. He seemed to have a lot of them. “Younger brother and sister,” he answered shortly. “I haven’t seen them in a while. You?”

rin cried out.

It almost seemed like she was hyperventilating and moaning when she squeezed her eyes open and grunted something to me. I couldn’t make it out the first few times over her panting, but the third time was clear as a bell, “my clit, my clit, my clit!”

As I kept up my steady flicking, I checked to make sure I was balanced and my knees were braced well. I reached my right hand down to grip a sweaty breast, while I slicked my other thumb and index finger with her juices. Throughout all that was going on, all the new sensations, all the distractions, I had forgotten Erin’s secret switch. We were both panting now, but Erin’s breathless whimpering of “my clit, my clit,” reminded me of all that I needed to bring her home.

Gently I replaced my darting tongue with two fingers, and trailed my tongue upwards to the hood of her clit. I waited until my fingers found a rhythm with her gasping, and placed my lips on either side of her exposed button. In time with my gentle frigging, I began to softly tap her clit with my tongue in a steady measure. Erin’s legs clamped hard around my shoulders and her back went into a rigid arc. I increased the soft tapping to a quick jamming as I forcefully drummed her clit with my tongue. Only my firm grip on her right breast steered her in place as she bucked wildly. Her low gasps and soft moans transformed into heavy deep-body sobbing, which in turn became a triumphant shout punctuating each peak of her orgasm with a single word: “I… AM… COMING… SO… FUCKING… HARD. ” Her body gave one last tremulous lurch, and then Erin unhooked her legs and lay quivering beside me.

After a little while, I snaked up the bed to come even with her face. Erin’s lower lip was trembling and her eyes were shiny. I leaned close and wiped a small tear away before pressing my lips to hers. Erin fit her warm body against mine and we met perfectly.

I would have been content to lie there forever, savouring my first moments in the arms of a lover. But mindlessly Erin reached down to cup my balls with her left hand. I tried to look unfazed and maintain steady eye-contact, but the soft kneading of my throbbing sack forced a betraying wince from my lips. I needed release badly and she knew it.

“Poor boy,” Erin mouthed silently and then bit her lip in a remorseful pout. Quickly, her little fist began to work my cock over, and in a matter of moments she directed a thick rope of cum into the morning light. She was able coax three more steady spurts before I was done.

There really wasn’t anything to say at that moment. I think we both knew that we were at the beginning of something better.

“Now I know why I went to all of those parties,” Erin said finally.

It was a statement that didn’t require a response. I knew the answer as well. I had never even considered what Erin always knew in her heart. She believed fat or thin, ugly or beautiful, we all deserved the same happiness and satisfaction. Yes, it would be easier for some to find then others. But if you waited long enough and kept your heart open, the right person would come along to fill it.

I knew why Erin went to all of the parties; she was waiting for me.

“Alexandra Shulman, editor of UK Vogue, defended the use of skinny models. “All we are doing is showing images of women we regard as interesting or beautiful or fashionable,” she said. “But we are not actually saying that you have to be like this.”"

The room was suddenly very warm, especially under may collar.

“No, I must have gone up right after dinner, at 9 pm, why?” I feigned normalcy.

“Oh nothing. So, have you decided on your girlfriend?” she asked.

“What?”

“You know, if you are interested in Lali, or some one else, I can hook you up,” she said.

“I don’t want a girl friend.” I said.

“Don’t want? Or you don’t know what to do with one,” she smiled.

“I know very well,” I said angrily.

“OK, what would you do with a girlfriend?” she asked smiling.

“I’ll talk to her, and go to movies.”

“And…”

“And we’ll talk, go to the market, eat and drink.”

“And…..”

“And… and…”, I stammered. A shimmering image of Madhu appeared before eyes, gloriously naked, with her upturned nipples on proud breasts…

“So you know nothing!” she continued her teasing.

“I know everything,” I said. “And I’ll kiss her….”

“Oh…” she looked at me strangely. “So do you know how girls are?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Do you know girls, have you ever been alone with one?” she asked, “And not just to solve math problem,” she added with a smile.

“Yes, I have been alone with girls,” I bragged.

“Oh… so what will you do if one does this,” and before I could understand what was happening, she suddenly swooped down, and kissed me on my cheeks.

I could feel a searing hot impression where her lips had touched briefly. I looked at her. She had a twinkle in her eyes, but I also saw how deep her eyes had become. Kissing me had affected her as well.

“I’ll kiss her back,” I said.

“So you will TELL her that you will kiss her !” she smiled, but she was not mocking.

“No” I said, getting up. “I’ll ….”, and I held her shoulders and kissed her on her cheeks… well, that’s what I wanted to do but she had turned her face just then. I felt the soft cushions of her lower lips beneath my lips. They were warm, and slightly moist. My nose touched her cheeks, just below her eyes, and I could smell her. An aroma that brought fleeting memories of a lifetime spent together….. but nothing, nothing prepared me for the moment when her lips parted slightly, beneath mine. I could feel the slow quiver of her lower lips, as she dared me by opening her mouth a bit more. I took her dare, on a roller coaster now, as I kissed her again, with an open mouth. I could feel her lower lips between my lips, and I could feel her arms, as they came up to hold my shoulders.

It was an eternity, after which we parted. She was still standing close, her arms holding my shoulders. Her face came into my vision, her hot and rapid breath on my neck. Her eyes were far away, somewhere, lips still parted. She was breathing faster.

“See, I can kiss,” I spoke the words loud, and the spell was broken.

She looked down, smiled and said,” I can see that you can do more.”

I looked down at the tent that had grown between my legs. Suddenly conscious, I sat down on the chair. I hardly ever wore underwear, when studying, and usually wore thin lounge pants.

“So, you can kiss. Have you kissed many girls?” she asked. I didn’t say anything. How could I tell her that that was my first kiss, a moment ago, and it had gotten over too soon. I wanted to kiss her again. But she stood there, in her usual nightie. She didn’t follow me as I sat down. I didn’t want this to end, but had no idea what to do. Except that my hardness had decided not to subside. So, I did not dare stand up either.

She came towards the table, and sat down on it. Her curvaceous hips were right in front of my eyes. She dangled one of her legs, her weight on the other. She tilted my head up.

“So how many girls” she asked.

I didn’t say anything; I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want to talk. I was greedily waiting for the next touch, the next kiss… anything.

“No, you are the first one…” I said. She smiled, and bent her head forward and kissed me again. She was sitting on the table, her legs dangling from the side, as she twisted her torso and bent her head to kiss me. So, was it any surprise, that she suddenly lost her balance, and was about to fall on me. Instinctively, my hands shot up to support her. And support they did. While my right hand caught her left shoulders, my left hands had better luck. I felt something soft and malleable, and warm on my left palm, as I supported her weight. Her right breasts were smashed by her weight on my palms. She too had tried to support herself, by grabbing my shoulders with both her hands. My left palms felt the softness, and I could distinctly feel a hard knob beneath my thumbs. Without realizing, my thumbs moved slowly, across that hard knob…, a very miniscule moment of a caress, but the effect was electric. With a long deep sigh, she stopped supporting herself, and moved her hands from my shoulders, and put her arms around my neck. Her face was inches from mine, and then she kissed me again. This time, it was a deeper that before. I didn’t know what was happening. Her kisses rained on my lips, and eyes, my left hands were slowly squeezing her breasts, and the thumb of my left hand had acquired a mind of its own, as it rubbed across that quivering knob.

Then she turned towards me. She swung her legs around and put both her feet on my lap. I was trapped between her, and the chair I was sitting on. She didn’t stop kissing me, as her foot slowly caressed my hard-on. I felt, a liquid heat rush from the depth of my balls, and rush forward onto my penis. I squeezed hard, and clenched my buttocks and everything else to prevent that liquid heat escaping through the tip of my penis. My penis jerked as it became harder still, and I could feel it hit her foot, as she kept it hovering near the tip. She broke the kiss for a moment to look down. I looked down too, and what a sight it was. There was a huge tent that was moving and jerking, and there was a growing wet spot on my lounge pants.

She sat back, and up on the table. Her legs were on either side of me, and she rested her foot on the edge of the chair. She was breathing hard, so was I, I guess. She looked at me with her large eyes, and laughed, a small tingling laugh.

“Did you like it,” she whispered. I nodded. She looked pleased, and then she came down, from the table.

A moment ago, she was sitting on the table, and then, she was on my lap. She was jammed between me and the table, as she settled herself on my lap, and pushed my hard-on right up my stomach. Her nightie was tightly stretched across her hips. She put her arms around my neck leisurely, and started to kiss me. This time, I was ready. I was still hard, but my cock was safely wedged between our bodies, and I had no urges to shoot liquid pleasure through its tips. Her hips on my lap felt soft and warm. I was holding her at her waists. Her legs rested not on the floor, but on those decorative bars, just underneath the chair seat. That caused her knees to be jammed just under my armpit.

This time, I kissed her back. I felt her suck my lower lips, and when she let them go, I copied her. I sucked her lower lips. She grabbed me, and kissed me hard. I felt her tongue flirt with my lips, and teeth. My hands were roaming, on her thighs and knees. I traced her thighs right up to her hips. The night-dress was stretched tightly across her hips. I held her hips, and then continued to roam upwards, as we kissed.

Suddenly, she stood up, bunched her nightie around her waist and sat back again. Her nightie was now free, and loose around her. But I felt something more. She was sitting on my thighs, and I mean, SHE was sitting on my thighs. My skin touched her hot skin. I felt something wiry touch high up on the insides of my thighs, and then, she resumed her kissing. My hands found a new vigor, as they roamed on her thighs. I slipped my hands under her nightie, and felt her skin. I heard her moan, and her breath on my face got hotter, as my hands crept up. My hands came to the point where her waist met her thighs. My hands were still on the outside of her thigh. My hands crept up her waist now, and the bunched up night-dress rode on my arms. I caressed the skin on her waist, and I touched her navel. Then my hands roamed higher, on to her rib-cage.

I could see more of her thighs come into view. She was still kissing me, but my mind was elsewhere. I wanted to see again, those wiry hairs and the treasures that they hid between her thighs. The only way I could see that was to raise her dress that rode on my forearm higher. My palms climbed higher now, on her body. A small bit of her dress still came between my eyes, and the junction of her thighs. I raised my hands higher still, on her body, and suddenly, my fingers touched her breasts.

A sigh escaped her lips. I caressed her breasts slowly. My fingers crept up her chest. And then, both my hands found the hard peaks nearly simultaneously. Her breasts appeared in front of me as I pushed her dress higher still. I looked down, I could see the apex of her thigh now, covered with a dense bush of black curly hair, and I could see her slit, as her hips rocked slowly on my thighs.

Suddenly, she sat up, and threw her head back. Her lustrous hair on her head whipped back on the table, and she arched herself. Her breasts rose clear now in front of me. I could see her throat, stretched, her head thrown back on the table, and her breasts. The twin mounds stood proud in their glory, the nipples long and swollen.

I began to message her breasts with renewed vigor; I knew I was affecting her in some profound way. I pinched her nipples, and when I let go, they reared up angrily, even more stiff, and taunt. I repeated it a few more times, and the result was magic. She scooted her hips forward, and her pussy, climbed onto my harness. She began to rock her hips faster; her elbows on the table, supported her weight. She continued to rock her hips, with an ever faster tempo. I could feel her pussy, her hairy bush ride higher near my naval. I could see clearly now, what my biology book said, a vagina was (it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen). I continued to torment her breasts, with the flat of my palm, teasing her rigid nipples. I pinched them between my fingers, and every time I did that, I heard her gasp.

But this was my opportunity to see her pussy. I looked down. I could see her pussy, flower open. I could see a boat shaped lips that joined at the tip, into a rigid knob. That must be the pea-like clitoris, I thought, that always appeared as a dot in my biology books. But this was no dot. I could clearly see her clitoris protrude out, on her up-stroke, as she rocked her hips up my hard cock. And then on her down-stroke, the boat shaped inner lips flared, and left a wet trail on my lounge pant, right where my cock-head was. The inner lip, was dark in color, engorged. It flowered and pulsed in front of my eyes. Her pussy was rubbing my cock-head, as she rocked her hips.

I had to touch her pussy. I brought my right hand from her breasts, and touched the pea-like clitoris. She shuddered once, and a throaty groan was wrenched from her throat. I knew I had hit the jackpot. With my thumbs, I began to scratch the tip of her pussy. She cried out again, and then she shuddered, as her whole body shook. I didn’t stop my caress. I slid my thumb between her lips. The valley between her pussy-lips was all slick and wet. My hands slipped down, and I began to rub her there.

“Oh my god! I have to have you,” I heard her say, and then she sat up back. In a flurry of motion, she stood up with her legs on both side the chair. She pushed her hands under my long pants, and tried to push them down. It went down a bit, but as I was sitting down, she could not completely yank them off. But she got what she needed. My cock-head was exposed. She pushed the top part of my lounge-pants a bit more and grasped my cock. She managed to expose my cock, all 7.5 inches of it, but my balls were still trapped. I lifted my hips a little, and pushed the pants down to my knees. My cock was now in her hands, straight and pulsing. She looked at it once, and then, she lowered herself. I couldn’t see anything anymore as her nightie was now all over us, on my lap. All I could see was her hand that still held my cock disappear under the nightie.

Then I felt as if a thousand ants had crawled on my cock tip. My cock tip brushed against something wiry. Within seconds, that feeling was instantly replaced by a warm and hot wetness that met to jam up against my cock-head. My cock was going into her pussy, like my biology book said it should. Somewhere between her thighs, below her pubic hair, I could imagine my cock-head parting her lower lips. I had to see what was happening. I grabbed the nightie that was bunched on my laps and lifted them. Just in time, I could see my cock-head disappear in the dark jungle between her lips, and I felt a warm tight wetness engulf my cock-head. I could see her inner pussy lips, flowered around my cock, and I could see her fingers still lightly guiding my cock in the right directions.

The pleasure was intense than anything I had ever felt before. She slid about half the length of my cock, and stopped. She got up a little, and I could see my cock emerging, right up to the ring behind the cock-head. It was shining and slick with her juices. She sat back again, and this time, I slid nearly completely in her. The night dress that I was holding up, slipped from my numb fingers, as all my blood and my consciousness rushed to the tip of my penis. I couldn’t bear it any more.

I felt another surge of liquid heat rise up from my balls, and I clenched my ass-muscles again, hard. She continued to rock up and down, and I could feel my cock ram into her deeper and deeper. I was still clenching tight, but slowly and inexorably, an urge was rising somewhere deep inside me, up my balls and into the base of my penis. I knew I was fighting a loosing battle, specially, since Madhu had increased her pace. I could feel her rise her hips, exposing a good part of my penis, to the cold air (that I could feel), and when about an inch was inside her, she slid down, engulfing me into her heat. And she continued it again and again, completely oblivious of my heroic, but loosing battle against that rising tide of liquid heat in me. I felt a burning sensation halfway up my penis, when I let go once. As I unclenched, I felt the wondrous burning liquid rush up my cock-length and into her. The burning liquid left in its wake, a pleasure I had never felt before. I felt a voice that did not at all sound like my own, moan and Madhu increased her speed.

She changed her strokes, and instead of rising all the way up, she began rocking her hips in a circular motion. That caused my cock to come out a little, and then slide in again, in short hard strokes. I clenched hard again, as I felt another surge start in my balls and I felt my cock-head expand. Madhu must have felt it to, for she increased her tempo. I held against the rising tide, maybe for a second, maybe two, and then that liquid heat broke loose. I felt a rush of pleasure shooting up my cock head, and I heard a strange voice cry out, again and again. Even before the first rush of hot searing liquid left my cock, I could feel another spasm taking over, and then another. In a continuous flow, I burst forth from my cock, and into her, with all my love and passion. I don’t know when I had grabbed her hips to hold her still, so that I could push all of me into her, to the greatest depth. Madhu had wrapped her arms around my head, and was kissing me, my eyes and lips and face, as she murmured something, I heard her say, ” … my baby… my baby…” over and over again. My legs were straight (don’t know when they had become ramrod stiff), and my hips had left the seat of the chair, as I tried to impale Madhu even more, on my cock. We stayed there for a long time like that, with after-spasms still hitting me, trying to drain away the minutest drop of pleasure from my balls. I was still inside her churning pussy. Madhu was breathing deeply, and so was I. Her eyes were shut, as she lay slumped against me, her head on my shoulders.

We heard the garage door open, downstairs, and voices that belonged to my parents, and Madhu’s drifted up slowly, through the fog of pleasure. Madhu’s face was close to mine, and I could she her eyes spring open. Did I see a fleeting moment of panic in them? She looked at me, and then all I could see was love. She kissed me slowly, once.

“I have to go now,” she whispered. She got up, and I felt my shrinking cock come out, and fall over my balls. She stood there, for a moment; bunched the nightie in her hands, and gave a quick rub between her legs. Then, with the same bunched cloth, she patted my balls and the shrinking cock dry, and stepped up over me.

“Sleep in this room tonight,” she said, walking out. “And keep the doors open, but shut the lights.” And then she was gone; I heard her climb down.

I got up, went to the bathroom, and reluctantly washed my cock, and balls. The world had suddenly become more beautiful, but more puzzling than ever before. But I knew, this was just the beginning, I knew there was more to come, and I could not wait for it to happen. I also had a thousand questions in my mind, questions I wanted to ask Madhu. But those questions could wait. I was eager for the day to be over, and the night to begin. The anticipation of it all had given me another hard-on. I changed my shorts, adjusted my cock, to hide the hard-on and went down.

…… continued.