Death by Fucking
© 2005 by Andrew Wiggin
Chapter 4 Passion or
I’ve done it. I’ve opened myself up to a man for the first
time in many years, maybe for the first time in my life. I’ve had sex in
the past, not often perhaps, but with several partners. I’m not an
innocent young thing.
But that’s what I feel like. I feel like a virgin at the
ball. I feel totally susceptible and yet totally accessible. What
does that even mean? I’m vulnerable; very, very vulnerable. This
could kill me. Can I take this kind of risk with this beautiful young
man? I trust him. He’s good; deep down he’s good. But are we
experiencing overpowering lust, or is there more to it? Is the lust based
upon real values, true attraction? How can I know?
I’ve got to talk to Donnie. Maybe she can help clarify my
emotions. I’ve got to get Donnie up here. She’ll know what to do,
how to react. I don’t make any major decisions without my sister. I
know that seems odd, but we are close; closer than any two sisters I’ve ever
met. We are like two peas in a pod. When she meets Andrew perhaps
she will be able to tell where physical attraction ends and emotional
attraction begins. I’m afraid.
Andrew made love to me. I don’t swear very often.
Momma and Daddy would die if they heard some of the things I’ve said to
Andrew. I don’t think I’ve used the word ‘fuck’ a dozen times in my life,
and yet here I am, thinking the word ‘fuck’ because that is the only word that
applies. Yes, Andrew made love to me, but first he fucked me. What
he did first could hardly be called lovemaking. It was fucking, pure and
simple. I’ve never been so thoroughly fucked.
I had been without a sexual partner for three years. Perhaps
I had some built-up passion that had been waiting to be released. Andrew
released it all. I am incapable of any more passion than Andrew provoked
in me.
We had just finished that wonderful animal-like fuck (I’m sorry
but there just isn’t another way to say it). I wanted to be
held. Andrew came into my arms and we kissed; a romantic,
sensual kiss of gratitude and promise; gratitude for what we had given each
other, promise of what was to come.
We talked. I wanted to know about this sweet man who had
become the focus of my existence almost overnight. He’s from
I asked him the obvious question. “Why are you in computing
when your degree is in history?”
He gave me a non-committal shrug. It’s no big deal to
him. He said “I built my first computer when I was eight. You just
pick things up. You’re part of the community and you share
knowledge. Before I was out of high school I could have run most of the
IT departments I’m familiar with. Why go to school for something you can
pick up independently?”
So I asked another obvious question. “Why
history? What in the world did you expect to do with history?”
“Oh it didn’t matter much which major I took. I was mostly
interested in filling in my gaps in knowledge, in my understanding of the
world. I took liberal arts, since the ability to think is a dying
art, especially in
“Andrew, I have a firm rule that I never talk politics in bed.”
He smiled an apologetic smile and said, “Sorry, Deirdre. I
do get carried away.”
I asked him about his other interests. He’s interested in everything.
He seems to have infinite obscure references at his fingertips. I’ve even
heard him quote Betty Friedan. How many men can do that? How does
all this information accumulate in one head? How is it so readily
accessible for retrieval? He never seems to be stuck for a
response.
So I asked him. “How do you know all this? What good does it
do you?”
He laughed. “I know all this because my brain is a
repository of totally useless information, and I remember almost everything I
read. I can’t help it. It’s not a talent, it’s a curse. What
it’s good for is to play Jeopardy. I could be a professional Jeopardy
player and make a lot of money. I’m waiting for the National Jeopardy
He builds these little imaginary scenarios that stand on their own
but are just so ridiculous. How does he come up with them? I think
it’s very funny.
I asked him about his family. He’s from small town
I wanted to know about his love life. After all, I’ve made it
perfectly clear that I have no love life. I didn’t want to appear
too obvious, and I didn’t want to appear like it mattered to me one way or the
other about his current love affairs, since they really weren’t any of my
business. But I found that it did matter. I wanted to know. I
guess I wanted to know what my competition was. Still, I don’t do
relationships.
He was very open about it. “I’ve had a few somewhat serious
relationships. I’m currently seeing no one that I expect to become
serious with, present company excepted, of course.” (I felt a delicious
tingle throughout my body when he said that.) “Nothing has panned out because I
guess I’m looking for something that most women aren’t willing to give me.”
This was interesting. “What is it that you want that you
can’t get?”
“I want someone who demands a relationship that is equal and
open. I want a relationship where both people accept responsibility for
making the relationship work. There has to be an open dialogue. I
want a woman who I don’t bore to death and who doesn’t bore me to death.
Unfortunately, that hasn’t been easy to come by. I’m interested in things
that a lot of people find deadly dull. I want at least an intellectual
equal. My ideal woman would be smarter than me, I guess. I want
someone who thinks, who challenges me with her mind.
“I don’t want to find out that my partner has been brooding about
something I said or didn’t say, did or didn’t do. If I do or say or not
do or not say something that hurts my partner, I want to know about it
immediately, so we can address the problem and get past it.
“My last relationship broke up because this girl had been mad at
me for over a month and I didn’t even know why. To this day I don’t know
and I don’t care why. All she had to do was tell me. I asked her,
of course, but she was like ‘I should know what I did wrong without having to
be told’. What we had here was ‘failure to communicate’. No
relationship can survive that. I let her down as painlessly as I could,
but I had to let her down. We had no future without communication.
“I guess I need a strong woman; someone who will tell me when I’ve
failed to live up to expectations; someone who will insist that we work at our
relationship every day of our lives. You have to have two people who
think the relationship is the most important thing in their lives.” He
got a sheepish expression on his face. He said, “I guess another reason I
haven’t stuck with a woman is that I do go off on tangents.”
Well. I’m a girl whose every relationship has been built
around the needs of the man I was with. I never felt that my opinions
about anything really mattered to any of them. Mostly I was window
dressing, and when they wanted an opinion from me, they would tell me what it
was.
I’m a smart person. I’m not embarrassed to admit that.
I’ve got my MBA from Duke, and am close to my doctorate. But in my
relationships with men, I’ve always been treated as if I were intellectually
inferior. I think it’s kind of a Southern thing. I would be earning
twice as much as my boyfriend, but would be treated like a child. Is it
any wonder that I gave up on relationships? I’m not good at existing in
that environment.
And now Andrew is telling me his relationships failed for
essentially the opposite reason. He needs a full partner. The women
he’s been with wanted a traditional male-dominated relationship. Andrew
just isn’t capable of that. He’s too sweet. He’s too
considerate. He’s too smart. He needs a full partner.
I’m getting scared. He’s so perfect. How could anyone
be so perfect? How could we fit so well together? We appear to be the
pieces that will fit into each other’s puzzle of a life to make both of us
complete.
I’ve got to talk to Donnie. Andrew requires full disclosure.
He doesn’t ask for anything except honesty. I haven’t been totally honest
with him. It’s dishonesty by omission, but dishonesty nonetheless.
After I talk with Donnie, I’ll decide about full disclosure. We are a
strange family. I just don’t know if Andrew can handle that fact.
But of all the men I’ve met in my life, I think that Andrew is the one most
likely to accept me as I am, accept us as we are. I’m getting
scared. I’m not sure if I’m scared that he can’t accept us or scared that
he can.
We talked and laughed for a while. Andrew loves to
laugh. He finds humor in everything. We spent the evening together
and we were either laughing or making love the whole time. He knows how
to fill all the time you spend with him with only good things.
Suddenly Andrew had enough of talking. He started to kiss
me. He kissed all over my face. He started on my neck. There
is something so sexy about having a boy suck on your neck. I think it’s
because it reminds me of high school, when girls had to cover those love
marks. I even got them on my breast, but I never showed them to anyone
but Donnie.
Andrew was doing all those high school-like things to my neck and
it was giving me chills. He left my neck and went to my breasts.
God it was like Andrew was the official breast inspector and he did all his
inspections with his mouth. I’ve never had my breast so thoroughly
inspected. His tongue was tantalizing. Under the circumstances,
perhaps I should say, it was titillating, if you know what I mean.
I was totally passive throughout this process. I just laid
there and let myself be loved. He is an expert at loving me; it seems he
is the expert at loving me. Finally his mouth moved
from my breasts to my belly button. His tongue just assaulted my belly
button. It was such a sensual feeling. My state of arousal had been
climbing, and now it was approaching a peak.
I don’t know why I am so naïve. I finally realized where
Andrew was heading. My God, he was going to put his mouth on my
sex! No one has ever done that for me. And we just finished making
love. I was dripping with my own juices and with Andrew’s juices. I
must have been a mess down there.
Yes, I will admit that I have dreamed of someone doing that to
me. Had Andrew told me he wanted to do it, I would have been properly
prepared. I would have bathed and cleaned myself down there. I
would have perfumed myself.
Andrew was in total control. I had abdicated all
responsibility, so I really couldn’t object to what he wanted to do, if he
wanted to do it. That’s what I told myself. It was out of my
hands. Thank God it was out of my hands. His fingers were teasing
my sex, making me crazy.
And suddenly, his mouth was there! His tongue licked a path
right through the center of my pussy lips. It may have been the most
wondrous sensual feeling of my life. His mouth was doing wonderful things
to me. He claimed to be a history major, but I think he got his degree in
pussy eating. I had to watch.
He caught me watching. I’ve never seen a person who enjoys
his work as much as Andrew. I could see it in his eyes, his beautiful
deep brown eyes. Our eyes met and I knew. He loves me. He
worships my body. He loves to give me pleasure. How could the act
of a man going down on a woman be so romantic? Andrew was making love to
me with his mouth, and with his hands, and with his eyes.
When we had intercourse that was just
fucking, primal primitive mating. But now we were making love. It was so sensual, so
lovely. I reached down and held his head in my hands. I just wanted
to touch him. He was so relaxed, so unhurried. He seemed to be
exactly where he wanted to be and would stay for as long as I let him.
I know that when ‘tongue’ becomes an Olympic sport, Andrew will
win the gold for length and strength. And he is a shoe-in for the tongue
marathon. He’s been graced with two perfect sexual organs. I’m so
lucky!
God, Andrew started working me over. He was playing me like
a violin. I would almost be to my peak of passion, and then he would
bring me down a little. Then he would bring me close to my climax
again. I couldn’t believe it! He knew my mood. He knew what I
was feeling. I became more and more aroused. My hips were pushing
my pussy into his mouth. My legs were squeezing his head. The poor
boy must be suffocating. I couldn’t help it. He had me so hot!
Oh, his fingers were in me. His mouth seemed to suck in my
clitoris. He began to gently lick it as his fingers rubbed inside my
passage. I screamed. My orgasm erupted! My body arched so
high he almost fell off of the bed. But somehow his mouth stayed clamped
to my pussy. His tongue pushed me higher and higher. I had achieved
a continuous orgasm, but my oxygen supply was gone. I collapsed onto the
bed just trying to breath. And still his mouth was on my pussy, loving
it, massaging it, worshiping it.
I have this person, this perfect wonderful handsome young man, and
he worships my pussy! When I was sufficiently recovered, I reached out to
him. I had to hold him. I had to feel him holding me. He came
up and our lips met in a soft sensuous kiss.
And suddenly his rock hard erection was slipping into me
again. It felt wonderful. It filled me to the brim, making me
stretch to accommodate its width, feeling its length gently touching my
cervix.
He was in no hurry. We looked into each other’s eyes as he
slowly pumped in and out of me. I felt us bonding. I’ve never
bonded with anyone except my sister. But this man, this wonderful loving
man, made me feel so full of emotion that it kept threatening to come out my
eyes. I held back my tears. I forced myself to hide them.
We kissed again, so passionately, so lovingly. I was giving
myself to him fully. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words, but he
must know it! I won’t say it. I can’t say it till Donnie says I
can. I know that sounds weird. I am weird. But if body
language counts for anything, he knows. I can’t give him more of a
commitment than that at this time. It wouldn’t be fair to him or to
Donnie. But I love him.
That mutual, unspoken, acknowledgement of our feelings of love was
what it took to move Andrew’s lovemaking to a different level. He had
been in me forever. How long, really? It must have been close to an
hour. And that was after he had eaten me for at least an hour. They
were the two most wonderful hours of my life.
Andrew almost instantly reverted to the madly passionate boy he had
been when he first came into my room. He was suddenly pounding me.
Powerful and more powerful strokes were igniting me with waves of passion,
waves of love, waves of lust. I wanted to hold
him and kiss him forever. I wanted him to feel just a tiny bit of the
ocean of emotion that had welled within me.
He was riding me wildly. I was whimpering with my
need. I opened up for him, made myself totally vulnerable for him.
I spread my legs for him, wrapped my legs around his waist to give him deeper and
deeper access to my being. I thought I would explode from the passion.
And suddenly the wave broke. I felt his hardness swell
within me. I felt wave upon wave of liquid warmth filling my pussy.
I was shaking with my release, screaming, then mouthing wordless noises, my
body clenched on him, feeling only his wonderful penis as it spasmed its last shot within
me.
It’s impossible to describe my feelings. I never suspected
there could be a time like this for me. He loves me. He said the
words, but more importantly he told me with his eyes, with his mouth, with his
heart. I believe him.
I love him. I haven’t told him, but he must know. I’ve
told him with my eyes. I’ve told him with my arms. I’ve told him
with my heart. He must know.
To achieve that passion, that peak of emotion with your true love
is the most perfect moment that we’ve been given on this earth, outside of
childbirth. I never even suspected that this feeling was possible.
How could I?
My body is awash in sexual satisfaction, brought on by a romantic,
passion-filled coupling with the love of my life. I’ve never felt so
complete. I’ve never felt more loved. I’ve never felt more
love. I’m dizzy with the overflow of my emotions.