9781618857569GettingitAllStorm (6 page)

Matt
turned and whacked a log into neat quarters as he felt Christy carefully
appraising his straining muscles. “I see your tongue hasn’t softened in your
mature years.” He wiped his brow. “You really stung some of those times,
Christy, trying to get me up and running again.”

“I
meant to,” she smiled demurely. “Alice would have wanted me to. She deserved no
less.”

“Yeah,”
Matt quartered another log. “I guess you’re right. But sometimes guys don’t
like to be horse-whipped into doing the right thing.”

“Why,
thank you for that kind appraisal.” She smoothed her skirt. “Glad to know I
haven’t lost my touch.”

“We’ll
see about your touch,” Matt muttered.

“What,
love? By the way, is rustic woodchopper your outfit for the evening? I’ve got a
pair of skin-tight denims I picked up in Vegas, with ‘What happens here - Stays
here’ in rhinestones spelled out over the ass that would be a perfect
complement. Are we going to hoe down at that biker bar up the road a piece?”

“Damn,
your taunting
hide
,” Matt laughed, slamming the ax
into the solidly planted chopping block. He strode over to the swing and swept
the laughing woman into his arms, carrying her to the porch fronting the small
cottage.

She
touched his cheek before he put her down. “Glad to have you back, Matt. We’ll
make your dearly departed and desperately missed lady proud.” She carefully
touched a moist eye, expertly maintaining her mascara’s perfection. “Got
anything to drink? You know how sentimentality dries my throat.” She perched on
a rustic bench.

Matt
guffawed. “Straight up or rocks?”

“Rocks.
It’s early. How was your ride with Little Lucy?”

“C’mon
inside,” he directed, yanking off his damp shirt and swabbed at his sweating
face. “I’ll get some ice. The liquor’s on that sideboard. My ride with Lucy was
fine. Do you two have something going over me?”

Returning
from the kitchen, Matt saw Christy looking around. “Well, at least you kept the
place up. She would have appreciated that.” She poured a drink and sipped. “We
two do not have something going. We three do. Good stuff.” She raised the glass
his way.

“Dorothy?”

“Sharp as ever.”
She raised her glass in his direction again after
he added ice. “Am I drinking alone?”

“I
need to clean up. I’ll only be a minute.”

“I
can help. And we can take a lot longer than a minute.” She ran the cold glass
over his naked chest.

“Damn,
woman. You still come on strong.”

“We’ve
got a bet and I’m gonna win it.
Tonight.”

He
tilted his head. His dark eyes narrowed. “What makes you so damn sure?”

“I’m
never sure, Matt. I just think positively. I do my part and hope the other side
does theirs…as well as I’ve done mine.”

“No
preliminaries? No romantic firelight?”

“I
like foreplay, if that’s what you mean. In front of a fire is fine.”

Matt
suddenly felt as if he were shooting white water rapids, without a raft, except
hot. His center was boiling. His whole body was throbbing with need. His dick
was as hard as the firewood he had been splintering.

“I
need…I need…to go upstairs…”

She
pulled a foil packet out of a small purse slung over her shoulder.
“To get one of these?
Extra strong.”

“I’m…I’m
sweaty.”

“I’m
going to be.”

With
a feral growl, Matt shoved the woman back onto the couch and dropped to his
knees. He yanked her skirt up and spread her legs with his forearms, aiming his
face for her crotch. Smashing his mouth against her barely covered pudenda, he
scraped the tiny thong aside with his
stubbled
chin.
She was wet and hot and smelled like raw earth, eternally female. His mouth
drank her essence.
Sucked it in.
Sucked
her in.
He shoved his tongue deep between the firm lips, plunging it in
and out.
Pumping out more juices to be swilled down.

Finding
the clit, he swabbed it solidly.
Surrounding it with his
mouth snake, encircling, lashing, stroking the hard nub.
His lips
pressed in and pumped it to full ripeness.

Her
shocked, then surprised, then feral cries of acceptance cut through the raw,
wet sounds of his attack. Startled gasps turned into little shrieks of yes,
yes, into louder and louder cries of oh God oh dear Lord yes fucking yes!

He
reached down to fumble with his pants, never ungluing his lips from her center,
driving his face into her moistness. Clumsily, he got his jeans over his butt
and down to his knees.
Got his underwear down.
Got the condom on.
Ripped it out and stripped it over his
rampant self.
And continued to eat.
To
devour.
To make up for the long, long months of no woman. No pussy. No
reason.

She
was grunting under him on the sofa in full response.
Writhing.
Calling his name.
Imploring
something.
He was desperate now. Desperate to make up for time lost.
Years lost. Fucks lost. His dick needed marinating…deep…renewing. His mouth
needed to suck her inside him.

“Matt.
Matt.” The plaintive voice was far away. She had finally discovered him, Matt,
pleading.
Imploring.
It made a difference. His fists
yanked the top of her dress down. His mouth, dripping with her juices, wet with
her nectar, drank her breasts, suckled hungrily at her nipples.

He
found her pussy with his probing fingers. The moist folds, the thick, tight
lips he had just swabbed with his devouring mouth. He pressed against the
entrance and it gave, the velvet wetness sucking his fingers in and enveloping
them with her heat and lush labial lavishness. He stretched the entrance wide,
but there was no resistance. She welcomed him. Her pussy pleaded to be
broached.

They
had never fucked. Not the grown-up them. Not since long before Alice, long
before Dorothy. Sunk in the apathy of high school, awash with hormones and
heat, he had taken her, she had taken him, in some back seat of some
conveyance, like now, half-clothed, violent with sexual need to know, furious
with want.

He
positioned himself at her entrance, clumsily, wet, slippery, but careful.
Angled so as not to hurt, not to belly flop.
He wanted a
smooth entrance after so long a time.
His dick so lonely, so
unused to another human contact.
He had almost implored Clay to jack him
off just to feel the grip of another human. Now Christy would do the honors.
Her most intimate and sacred self, though shared with God knows with how many,
but who the fuck cared. She was under him now, grunting, animal-like, just like
him.
Wanting him.
Wanting to shut
down the roar of need.

He
eased into her opening. Her pussy fit. He fit. He paused for a moment.
Another life-changing moment.
He hadn’t had one of those in
a very long time. Matt slammed himself home. She growled as he settled in her
grunting with the amazing rightness of it all. She clutched him and gripped his
dick with her fierce pussy muscles so hard, so possessively, he almost erupted
into the plastic separating them.

Damn,
he thought, vaguely, over the rush of emotion and physical responses. Damn. His
body was on fire, shooting off in all directions.
Remembering.
Recalculating.
Reassessing.
Reconstructing
itself
to fuck. Fuck hard. Drive
himself
in and out of her.
In and out.
Deep.
Deep.
Deeper.

His
bare ass hammered his rigid meat forward and then recoiled, dragging it
protesting back so he could jackknife forward again. She sucked air through her
teeth as he withdrew, and held her breath, until he jammed himself back into
her, ramming the abandoned sheath of muscles full, packing the straining vagina
to overflowing. Each thrust was a new sensation. He could feel her juices hot
against his
flesh,
imagine the wetness plastering his
dick hair against his tight pubes.

Oh,
so deep he plowed.
Internalizing his need.
His big hands on her tight butt, dragging her forward.
Nailing her to him.
She screamed.
Or
moaned.
Or returned his growls.
It made no
difference.

He
fucked her hard. Her pussy grabbed at him hard.
Clamped his
meat hard.
Staked her claim hard.
Double-fisted him.
Dragged him into her.
As deep as he could go.
Deeper than
he could go.
Into the middle of her being.
Into him.
Possessing him.
His whole
body flamed. Pre-cum poured. Pussy juices gushed.

Her
hands grabbed at his clothes, grabbed at his butt. Her legs arced up and folded
down, driving into his ass, pinning him to her.

Buried
deep, his dick felt perfection. Nobody owned him. Nobody possessed him. He
possessed. He owned.

The
rest of him felt like he was being trampled.
Clotted by
clothing.
Fighting through a jungle to get to the
clearing.
Clawing toward the blinding clearing in the jungle of must
have where his dick swam in perfection.
Where he chose for it
to swim.

Matt
pounded his rock-hard, throbbing prong into Christy, his jeans tangled around
his ankles, her dress knotted somewhere around her middle, his hands slipping
off her ass to fight for purchase in the soft cushions of the sofa. Her thong
scraped against his thrusting, vein knotted bone then turned into a sodden bow
that sawed against his driving gristle.

His
entire being centered on his probe, driving into her target.

The
heat rushed in from all his extremities and centered.
Coalesced.

With
a grunt his body erupted.
A blissful, blissful, blissful
eruption.
He gasped. Moaning, unbelievingly, he blew his load.
Body jerking.
Ejaculating gloriously.
That he still could…that the wait hadn’t killed him…that his
flesh hadn’t totally atrophied.

Endlessly
coming, expulsing waves of cum, climbing through the tangled vines, dragging
his bedraggled neglected
manbody
, nails dug into the
woodvine
toward the clearing.

Giving his all.

Getting it all.

Dragging
himself, limb over limb out of the dank and dark and into the light where his
jangled body fused with the perfection of her perfectly suctioning pussy
enveloping his
firehosing
dick

Peace.
Utter, unbelievable peace.

His
chest pounded. His body shook.

Then calmed.
And sank quietly, numbly beneath the surface.

Matt’s
head began to clear. The clearing goal was a Christy pool with streaks, swords
of light, driving down, radiating from on high through the warm fluid. He swam
up through the lake of cum to break through.

“I…”
He swallowed. She was under him, breathing deep.

“I’m…”
He gave up communication and poured himself back onto her disheveled bed of
flawless flesh.
Into becoming a man again instead of exploded
atoms.
Drained neurons.

“Well,
that was something,” she muttered, sucking in oxygen, full chest heaving.
“Something fucking else.”
She stretched underneath him,
arching her back, grunting, testing her hips, trying to get comfortable. He was
still socketed. “Good thing you didn’t wait any longer. You might have
completely flattened me. I take it you were a little more gentlemanly with Lucy.”

“Lucy
and I didn’t fuck,” he mumbled into her left breast, feeding on her softness,
his face reveling in her womanhood.

“Good
thing,” she snorted, unglamorously. “Matt, I need you to get off me.”

“Oh,
God, woman,” the realization broke through like ice water. “I’m still in my
workboots
.”

“You’re
still in everything else you had on, honey, including me. Don’t worry about it.
I’m still in my heels.
Barely.”

His
butt did feel…scarred. Damn. Awkwardly, they uncoupled. Matt felt himself flush
with embarrassment as he ungainly pushed himself to sit up on the sofa.

“Christy,
I…I’m so sorry. I don’t quite know what took over…are you all right? I didn’t…”

She
too sat up, adjusting herself. “Don’t worry about it, Matt. Not totally your
fault, I’m glad to see. I was playing with fire and almost got myself burnt.
Nice to see you can still heat up those cockles.” She leaned over and kissed
him gently on the cheek. “Not the first time I’ve bit off a big chew.
But no more than I can handle.
I’m a big girl. My
daddy always said don’t
mess around in the grate unless
you’re sure the coals are out.”