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From: sidney_durham@my-dejanews.com (Sidney Durham)
Subject: {ASSM} NEW: Bonnie McBride (MF, cons, 1st)
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NOTICE:
This story contains detailed and explicit descriptions of sexual
activity. If you are not over 18 years of age, or if you are
offended by such material, or if this kind of material is illegal
where you live, then DO NOT READ THIS!
This story is copyright (c)1999 by the author, all rights
reserved. With the exception of USENET distribution and archiving,
it may not be reproduced or distributed without express written
permission of the author.
Comments are welcome at sidney_durham@my-dejanews.com. If you
get nasty or otherwise waste my time, I'll ignore you.
Bonnie McBride
by Sidney Durham
There was a straight chair next to the sofa bed. Billy crept
toward it, afraid the ancient floorboards would squeak, and stood
very quietly when he got to the chair. A bra and a pair of panties
were draped over the back of the chair. He reached out and fingered
the bra briefly, then lifted it and held it to his nose. It smelled
like detergent. He picked up the panties. They were lacy panties,
but the crotch and back were silky smooth. He sniffed them. More
detergent. It wasn't a woman scent -- a scent he didn't even know
-- but the silky texture felt good against his lips and face.
He turned and sat, holding the panties in his lap, and studied
the woman on the sofa bed. The window shade had been drawn, but did
little to keep out the brightness of a street light just outside the
window. He could see her clearly. Bonnie McBride, Debbie McBride's
mother, was sound asleep. She was completely unaware that he'd
crept up the steps at the back of the house and into the tiny
one-room apartment.
She didn't look old enough to be Debbie's mother. They could
have been sisters.
He'd had a date with Debbie the night before. He'd gone to the
little apartment to pick her up Friday night. That's when he met
her mother, who answered the door.
She took a long look at him. "Where are you taking Debbie?" she
asked, moving back to let him in.
Billy stepped through the doorway and took a step to the side,
to get some distance between himself and her. "Um, well, I thought
we'd maybe go to a movie. There's a good one at the drive-in this
weekend." He was uneasy. She was pretty, and he was having trouble
keeping his eyes away from the rise of her breasts, revealed because
her blouse was open an extra button at the top. She was barefoot,
and was wearing cut off jeans that revealed nice legs and accented
the flare of her hips. He had heard stories about this woman.
He did take Debbie to the drive-in, hoping that none of his
friends would see him with her. The word was that she would fuck,
and that was why he'd asked her out. Here he was, eighteen years
old, bound for college in only a month, and still a virgin. It was
time to correct this embarrassing situation. There weren't many
girls in town who would put out. Debbie was supposedly one of the
few. So was her mother, he'd heard.
The evening began on a promising note. Debbie let him kiss her
and play with her breasts, and she even let him unbutton her blouse
and grope her tiny breasts outside the bra she was wearing. She
even let him put her hand in his bulging lap. That's where it
ended, though. The first time he'd tried to press his hand between
her legs she pushed him away, telling him she didn't do that kind of
thing, that her mother would find out and kill her. In the end he'd
actually been both disappointed and relieved, the relief coming from
knowing he wouldn't have to perform the act with a girl who was
experienced, who would compare him with others.
Billy went home and masturbated, imagining himself fucking
Debbie's mother.
Now here he was, sitting by this bed at one o'clock in the
morning, watching Bonnie McBride sleep, wondering where Debbie was.
His heart was pounding. He'd never done anything like this before,
but he knew he could go to jail just for being there.
Donnie Howell had told him about it. Donnie knew his way
around. His older brother David was one of the Moon Men, a group of
guys who had been out of high school for a few years, guys who never
worked, simply hanging around in cars looking for trouble.
"You can fuck that McBride's mother," Donnie said. "You can go
in their apartment any time you want to," he said. "They never lock
the door. The Moon Men do it all the time. They just go up the
steps and open the door and crawl right in bed with her. She lets
them fuck her. I even fucked her myself," Donnie added proudly.
"Debbie was right there in the fuckin' bed. She watched."
The panties were Bonnie's, he assumed. She was right in front
of him. He could reach out and touch her breasts. He could just
crawl in the bed with her and fuck her. He could just slip it right
into her. He was already hard. He would just crawl right into the
bed and put it to her. She would lie there quietly, holding him
until he was done, and he would get up and thank her on his way out.
But he was frozen in the chair. He was sure he knew what would
happen: He would get his penis out and get on top of her, and as
soon as he started to put it inside her he'd shoot off and ruin the
whole thing.
It had happened twice before, most recently with Janey Gonzales.
He dated her for several weeks, and progressed to the point where
she would let him do what Donnie Howell called a "dry fuck," lying
between her legs and grinding against her crotch and abdomen until
he ejaculated into his underwear. He was sure she knew what he was
doing, and didn't seem to mind. It made sense that she'd let him
fuck her if she'd let him dry fuck her. But when the moment came,
when he lowered himself, legs angled awkwardly up against the car
door, and tried to guide himself with his hand, searching, prodding
her a couple of times, he came abruptly into the rubber, an
unexpected disgrace, ending the evening.
He looked down at the panties. They belonged to a woman who was
old enough to be his mother, and he was planning to fuck her. He
wondered if he could actually go through with it, or whether or not
he would embarrass himself again.
It was a warm evening and the apartment was hot. Bonnie had
kicked back the covers so very little was hidden from him. She was
on her back. He had little trouble making out the shape of her
breasts, and he knew she was not wearing underpants. She couldn't
be. He was holding them in his hands. Besides, he thought he could
see a dark patch under her filmy gown.
Billy raised the panties to his face again and rubbed his cheek
with the silky fabric. What should he do? Should he take off his
clothes and crawl into the bed, or should he just unzip his pants
and leave them on while he fucked her?
He continued to rub the panties on his cheek, trying to imagine
what it might be like. He would stand by the bed, undressing as
Bonnie watched. He would unbutton his shirt slowly, revealing
well-developed chest and stomach muscles. He would allow the shirt
to drop to the floor behind him. He would unbuckle his belt. She
would reach out a hand to caress his muscled thigh. He would
unbutton his jeans and begin unzipping his fly, very slowly, looking
down at her as he did so. She would reach up and push his hand
aside, pulling the zipper the rest of the way down. Then she would
pull apart the top of his jeans, which would begin slowly sliding
down his muscle-ridged thighs, until they were down far enough that
his enormous pecker would spring out. He would not be wearing
underwear, of course.
She would gasp at the sight of his massive organ and reach up to
touch it timidly. He would bend, grab two fists full of hair, and
pull her up, forcing himself into her mouth, forcing her to accept
every inch of him, and he would begin plunging in and out of her hot
mouth, all the way down her throat. She would grip him by the hips
and greedily pull him toward her, taking even more of him into her
gullet. He would explode into her.
Slowly, carefully, he stood and unzipped his jeans and pried out
his cock. It was as hard as he could remember it ever being. He
rubbed it with the silky panties.
Maybe she wouldn't be awake. Maybe he would stand by the bed
undressing, and as soon as he was naked he would put a leg over her,
kneeling astride her, so that his enormous rigid tool would be
suspended and swinging over her face when she opened her eyes. She
would be overwhelmed by the size of his organ and would start
showering it with kisses, holding it gently in both hands as his
enormous balls grazed her breasts. Then she would pump him for a
while, using both hands, and his balls would swing back and forth,
hitting her puckered nipples. Then she would nestle him between her
breasts, using both hands to push them up, surrounding him with her
gentle flesh. At the last minute, just when he was about to go off,
he would slide down and plunge himself into her and she would scream
in gratitude when he discharged deep inside her.
He unbuttoned the top of his jeans and pulled them down a
little, then sat again, sliding down in the chair so that his body
was nearly straight, and began stroking himself slowly with the
silky panties. They slid up and down smoothly, cool silkiness
against his hot skin.
Maybe he would wake her up first. Maybe he would stand by the
bed, bend down, and begin caressing her breasts. He would slide one
hand down her flat stomach, over her smooth abdomen and into her
silky pubic hair. She would awaken some time during this and reach
up and begin trying to undress him, meanwhile grinding her mounded
warmth against his hand. He would push her hands away and continue
playing with her until she was about to go crazy with lust. Then he
would undress and get on top of her, slipping between her smooth
thighs and ramming her with his steel-hardened cock and she would
scream in ecstasy two or three times before he would let himself go.
He pulled the front of his underpants down tucked the elastic
under his balls and started stroking himself again, faster than
before, sliding the silky panties up and down, rolling his hips up
and rubbing his balls with his other hand. He could feel the end
approaching.
Maybe she would want him to jack off for her first. He had
often imagined that he was a performer, going to women's parties and
masturbating for them and getting paid for it. In the bathroom at
home he would stand on the toilet so he could watch himself in the
medicine cabinet mirror, flogging himself and gyrating like a
dancer, pretending there was a room full of women in front of him.
The women in his imaginary audience would scream and applaud when he
came, and his semen would fly everywhere.
He was on the edge; it was about to happen. It was just a
matter of time. He decided to go ahead with it and began moving his
hand faster, sliding the silky panties up and down, bucking his
hips, pretending she was watching raptly, feeling fluid start to
move, ready to shoot into the panties while she watched wide-eyed --
Holy shit! Her eyes were open. Son of a bitch! Her eyes were
open! She was watching him! Fuck!
Billy clamped his hand, trying to stop the inevitable. It was
too late. It happened. Suddenly he was coming, shooting right into
the panties. She was watching him. He slumped in the chair,
paralyzed, humiliated, unable to stop, helplessly squirting into the
silky fabric while she quietly watched.
He had to get out of there. He jumped up, still holding his
penis and the defiled panties in one hand, yanking up his pants with
the other hand, intending to run, to get out the door, to get out of
this place. She reached out and grabbed his thigh just above his
knee, freezing him. He looked down at her. She was up on one
elbow, and her gown had twisted slightly, uncovering most of her
breasts.
"Was there something you wanted?" she asked, clearly angry.
"Huh?"
"Why are you here?" she asked. "What do you think you're doing,
jerking off with my panties?"
"Um..." He said, turning away, still hoping to get out of
there.
"Sit down right there," she said sternly. "If you leave, I'll
call the police. Answer me. What are you doing here?"
Billy sat, still holding himself inside the sodden bundle. She
waited.
He felt completely stupid. "Well, I... Is Debbie here?"
"No she's not. She's spending the weekend with her father.
Don't tell me you came here at one o'clock in the morning to see
Debbie. Tell the truth. Were you planning to steal something, or
rape somebody, or did you just intend to sneak in here and jack off,
like a little kid?"
"Oh, no!" he protested. "I wouldn't do that! I -- I just
wanted to... I heard that you would... Well..."
"Are you telling me that you came here to have sex me? Are you
kidding? What made you think I would let you do that?"
He had never been so ashamed. He had gotten caught jacking off
-- something you're not supposed to do anyway -- and he was
trespassing, like a burglar. This could ruin his entire life! He
slumped in the chair.
"Answer," she said. "Why in heaven's name did you think I'd
have sex with you?"
"Well, the Moon Men..."
"Who? Moon Men? What Moon Men?"
"Um, you know, David Howell and those other guys. They come up
here all the time, don't they? Don't you let them, um, do it?"
She fell back on the bed, laughing. "Those vagrants? Do you
really think I would have sex with that pack of idiots? What did
you call them? Moon Men? How incredibly tiresome and juvenile.
Moon Men, for God's sake. I must be dreaming!"
He felt stupid. He shouldn't have believed Donnie Howell. "I'm
sorry," he said, almost whispering. "I just -- "
"You just got stupid," she interrupted. "Let's see, Debbie said
your name's Billy Miller, right?"
"Yes ma'am."
"And you actually came up here for sex?" She looked at him
seriously now. "Are you telling me the truth? Were you really
thinking I would have sex with you?"
"Well, that's what they said and, well, see, I never, I've never
done -- "
"You've never done it?"
Billy shook his head. He was immediately sorry he'd told her.
It was hard to admit this.
"Debbie said you graduated this year, right? Class of 1961?"
"Yes. Um, I start college this fall," he said.
"And you're still a virgin?"
He nodded.
"And you're an idiot. Right?"
He nodded again, feeling his face redden. He was glad she
hadn't turned on any lights. "I'm very sorry," he said. "I've
never done anything so stupid." His throat tightened and tears
welled in his eyes, embarrassing him even more. Shit! Crying like
a fucking baby!
She studied him carefully. Her breasts were partly exposed
again in spite of his despair he was having trouble keeping his eyes
off them. She was staring into his face, compelling him to meet her
eyes. Abruptly she swung her legs to the floor and stood. "I have
to use the bathroom. You stay right there," she said, plucking the
panties out of his hand with the tips of her fingers as she passed
him. "Jesus, what a mess!" she muttered.
When he heard the bathroom door close he wiped his eyes and
stood to zip and buckle his pants. Behind him he could hear her
peeing in the bathroom. He thought of leaving, but she'd said she
would call the cops if he did. She seemed to be less angry, but he
didn't know what she would do. If she turned him in, his
scholarship might be cancelled and he wouldn't be able to go to
college. Everybody in town would find out about how stupid he'd
been.
The toilet flushed loudly and he sat back down again. She came
back a few moments later, seating herself on the bed. She sat
quietly, looking at him. She was wearing what his sister called
"shortie pajamas," a very brief gown-like top, usually with a pair
of matching briefs. But she was wearing only the top part. She was
wearing nothing on the bottom. In spite of his abysmal misery he
was finding this situation to be very erotic.
"I'm really sorry," he said again. "Can I please go? I'll
never do anything like this again, I promise."
She shook her head. "You stay right there," she said. "I want
to think about this."
It seemed she sat there, staring at him, forever. She was not
what he would have called a beautiful woman, but her long blond
hair, her blue eyes, and her full, sensuous lips appealed to him.
But what could she be thinking about? Was she deciding whether or
not to call the police?
Then she spoke. "You're eighteen years old, right?"
"Um, yes."
"And you leave for college next week?"
"I leave Thursday. Please don't turn me in," he pleaded. "I'd
lose my scholarship."
There was another extended pause. Then, her voice almost
inaudible, she said, "All right, Billy. I'll do this for you."
"Huh?"
"I said I'll do it. You can do it. We can make love, if you
still want to."
"Um, wait. I -- Why?" he asked. "Why would you do this? You
don't even know me."
She studied him. "Just because," she said finally. "Maybe I
feel sorry for you."
Unaccountably, this angered him. "That's what they call a pity
fuck, isn't it?" he asked.
She laughed. "You don't know how true that is," she said. "But
you're thinking about it the wrong way."
"Huh? I don't get it."
"Never mind. Do you want to stay?"
"Tell me what you mean. Please."
She sighed. "Billy, I'm divorced and alone. There aren't even
ten thousand people in this Godforsaken town. Tell me, do you
intend to come back here to live when you graduate from college?
He shook his head.
"That's what I thought. You can get out of here. I can't. And
I don't know of any men in this town that I'd even consider going
out with. In other words, I don't date. This is a lonely town for
somebody like me."
"You could get out of here if you wanted to," he said. "You
could get a job in Indianapolis, maybe, and just move there."
She sighed. "Debbie would have to change schools," she said.
"She'd understand if you explained to her. I'm sure of it."
She dismissed the thought with a wave of the hand. "We're not
going to solve that problem tonight. Are you going to stay or not?"
"Are you really serious? Do you really want me to stay?"
She nodded. Her hands were moving in her lap, fingers twisting
the hem of her gown. She seemed uneasy. This was difficult for
her. As he realized this, things began to change. The sofa bed was
low, putting her head below his, about even with his chest. She had
to look up to meet his eyes. Somehow this geometry, coupled with
her uneasiness, made her seem less threatening, maybe even a little
helpless.
"Listen, Billy," she said, looking up at him with her pale blue
eyes. "I -- Well, I miss -- I need -- I would enjoy being with a
man sometimes. We could help each other. That's what lovemaking is
really about. Two people giving something to each other. We're
here, we have the time, and you seem like a nice guy. We could do
something for each other."
Her words were rushed, her voice strained. This really wasn't
easy for her. She was asking him to fuck her. No, she was asking
him to make love to her. He was suddenly more nervous, concerned
now about how he might perform, afraid he'd disappoint her.
"Okay," he said, whispering.
"You'll have to promise me some things. Is that fair?"
He nodded. "Okay," he said again.
"One: Nobody can ever know about this. No bragging. Gentlemen
don't discuss women they've been with."
He nodded.
"Two: You must never try to have sex with my daughter."
"Um, okay."
She met his eyes. "Okay," she whispered. Moving quickly she
stood and pulled her gown off over her head. Her breasts lifted and
moved as she raised and lowered her arms, capturing his eyes. Her
hair was dark blond, but her pubic hair was almost black. Her flat
stomach, her full firm breasts, the mystery of that wide thick patch
of pubic hair were right in front of his face, less than a foot
away. She stood before him, looking down at him, her eyes locked on
his. She seemed steady, calm.
Billy Wagner stared shamelessly, his mouth hanging open. He had
seen pictures of nude women, he'd had a couple of girls mostly
undressed in the back seat of his father's car, and he'd even seen a
stripper at the county fair, but he had never been this close to a
naked, full-grown adult woman, an experienced woman who was ready to
fuck him.
"God," he said, his voice strangely husky, "you're beautiful."
These words seemed to be a trigger: he felt an immediate swelling
inside his pants. He wanted to touch her everywhere, to slide his
hands up and down her sides, along her flanks; to slide them around
to cup her buttocks; to slide them up again to caress her breasts.
He wanted to press his hand into her crotch, into its swirling dark
covering, a place where a man could lose himself.
He stood. He raised his hands tentatively, dropped them to his
sides again, and then timidly placed his sweating palms on the
graceful curves of her waist, touching her warily, as if afraid he
might somehow contaminate her beauty. She moved into him and her
arms floated up and around him. His arms enclosed her, his fingers
flowing on the soft skin of her back. He pulled her closer and
their hips met, pressing her against his burgeoning erection. His
stomach lurched with sudden excitement and he wondered if she could
feel his hardness.
Then their lips met; they tasted one another. Quickly her
tongue grazed his and went away. A chill swept through him.
"Take off your clothes, Billy," she said, pushing him away. She
reached to unbutton his shirt.
He was immobilized, frozen in embarrassment by the idea of being
naked with her, of letting her see his skinny arms and flat chest --
and his ridiculously stiff penis. He was rock-hard again. Somehow
this embarrassed him. His former pride in his penis had vanished.
"Are you going to be a zombie?" she asked, peeling back his
shirt.
One by one he raised his feet and pulled off his shoes. He
unbuckled his pants. She took a seat on the bed, waiting, watching,
as he lowered his pants and underpants together and sat quickly, to
hide himself and to get his pants past his feet and off completely.
Then he simply sat, his stupid misbehaving penis sticking up. She
surveyed him for a moment and said, "You're still sort of messy.
Why don't you go clean up a little?"
Billy was chagrined by her frankness. He stood, wanting to hide
his ridiculous protrusion, and went into the bathroom, equally
uneasy about how he must look from behind, his skinny flat butt yet
another source of embarrassment.
In the bathroom he ran water and rinsed himself, and dried
carefully with the hand towel. Looking down at his distended organ
he felt a sense of betrayal. His inability to control its behavior
had embarrassed him more than once. In his previous excursions into
attempted intercourse it had misbehaved, making him feel amateurish
and immature. This woman in the other room must think him a fool
for having become so turned on in her presence that he had actually
masturbated, right there on the spot. Now she must be secretly
amused by his absurd reaction to her nudity. He was sure a more
sophisticated man would have been able to sustain some sort of
dignity in the situation. An experienced man surely wouldn't have
gotten aroused as quickly as he had when she so casually slipped out
of her gown and revealed her stunning body to him.
When he returned to the bed he held the towel in front of him.
His erection had not diminished at all.
She was lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows. She had
left room for him to lie beside her. The long gentle arch of her
back and the abrupt upward swelling curve of her buttocks made an
extraordinary compound curve, gorgeous and inviting. "Come here,"
she said, patting the bed beside her.
There was a small oscillating fan on a table and she'd turned it
on to move hot air around the room. She'd also turned on a radio,
the volume low. He could hear Danny and the Juniors singing "At the
Hop."
Should he lie on his back or on his side or on his stomach? He
eventually decided to lie on his stomach, hiding himself. The sheet
was cool against his heated organ. He dropped the towel on the
floor by the bed.
"I'm waiting," she said.
"Um, huh?"
"Take some initiative. Treat me like a woman. And stop saying
`um,' right this minute. It makes you sound like an idiot."
He rolled onto his side and up on his elbow, facing her, holding
himself away so his body would not touch her. She was still propped
up on her elbows and he could see the curve of her breast under her
arm. He slipped his hand in, cupping her amazing softness. He
began squeezing and leaned forward, intending to kiss her shoulder.
She moved her arm, pushing his hand away. "Stop that, Billy,"
she said. "You make me think you're only doing this for yourself.
You can do better than that. You have to let a woman know you care
about her, that you're not just after her body."
Chagrined, he pulled back, and after a moment started running
his fingertips up and down her back, touching lightly, keeping away
from her bottom even though he ached to caress it. She lowered her
head, resting her forehead on her arms. "That's nice," she said.
"You know, it's been a long time since..." she added, then stopped.
"Since what?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing. It's just... I haven't been with anybody for a
long time. I've missed this."
He continued his work. Gradually, very gradually, he broadened
the passes he was making up and down her back, eventually tracing
his fingertips around her glorious buttocks. Just as gradually he
got more of his hand involved until he was actually rubbing her, up
and down her back, over her buttocks, caressing and petting her.
"That feels so good," she said. "Would you like to give me a
back rub?"
After a moment of uncertainty he rolled, throwing a leg over her
so that he could kneel astride her body. He began running his hands
up and down the long muscles on either side of her spine, trying to
press her muscles the way he would have liked it to be done to him.
Although his knees were touching her thighs as he straddled her, he
carefully held his hips up, afraid to let his genitals contact her.
As if reading his mind, she said, "You can sit on my legs if it
makes it easier."
The invitation was all he needed. He settled on her thighs,
continuing to rub up and down her back. He was trying to
concentrate on the work his hands were doing, but the sensations of
his genitals resting on her body, the view he had of his hard-ridged
stiffness against her soft curves, created a sense of urgency.
Pushing the thought out of his mind, Billy concentrated on the
back rub. She was very quiet; making only occasional sounds that
let him know she was enjoying what he was doing. He was enjoying it
as well, simply because she was.
He lengthened his strokes, pressing hard, gradually and timidly
bringing his hands all the way down to caress her bottom, letting
his fingers flow over her tantalizing curvature. His penis had
settled with its crimson tip lodged in the juncture of her thighs
and buttocks, as if it were meant for that exact spot. Each
downward pull of his hands caused pressure on it, molding her soft
flesh down and around it. The feeling was exquisite, and compounded
the closeness he was beginning to feel with this woman. Although
they were almost perfect strangers, he felt warmth and affection
he'd never experienced with the girls he'd dated. He thought he
could continue doing this for weeks, and decided he wouldn't stop
until she told him to.
Seeming to read his mind again, she stirred a little and said,
"Thank you, Billy. That was wonderful."
He rolled off and positioned himself on his side, the length of
his body in contact with her. This time he allowed his penis to
touch her, and pressed it slightly into her flank. He put his arm
across her back and on her shoulder and pulled her closer. He
raised his leg and caressed her bottom with the inside of his thigh.
After a moment she rolled over, onto her back, and reached up to
pull his head down to kiss him. It was a long, slow kiss, her
tongue finding and dancing with his, and he put his hand on her,
lightly touching her breast, stroking it the way he would a kitten.
He felt her nipple rise. His leg was still over her, and he thought
he could feel her wiry fur against his inner thigh.
In the background he heard the radio.
"Never know how much I love you
Never know how much I care"
Peggy Lee. He remembered the song. He remembered the stripper
he'd seen at the county fair a year or two back, a blond Marilyn
Monroe look-alike, a large-breasted blond who had taken off all of
her clothes, revealing her startling black furry crotch to him and
the other teens and men in the audience, stroking and caressing
herself as she swayed and ground her hips around the small stage in
the sweltering tent, wearing nothing but white high heels. This
stripper, the first live nude woman he'd seen in his short life, had
been in his mind countless times since then, especially when he
masturbated. The song on the radio was the one the stripper had
used for her finale, when she took off the last of her clothes, when
she unveiled her brushy black crotch to Billy and his awestruck
friends, and to the men in the tent, all of whom had paid an extra
dollar to see the second show.
Billy had bought the record. For months he had played it while
he masturbated, imagining himself fucking the blond again and again.
He traced a finger around her nipple. "Be very gentle," she
said. "Ah, that's good. I can feel things happening all the way
down my body when you do that. Oh, that's very nice. You're doing
a very good job, Billy."
"When you put your arms around me
I get a fever that's so hard to bear -- you give me fever
- when you kiss me"
Improvising, hoping he wasn't pushing things, he lowered his
head to her breast and began kissing it, sucking gently at the
nipple. From the sound of her breathing he decided he'd done the
right thing.
"Fever when you hold me tight
Fever -- in the morning
Fever all through the night"
Improvising again, he put a hand on her stomach rubbed briefly,
still kissing her breasts. He moved his hand lower and lower until
it was grazing her fur, and at his touch she parted her legs
slightly so that he could move his hand between them. He moved his
leg down and out of the way, and caressed her foot with his.
"Sun lights up the daytime
Moon lights up the night
I light up when you call my name
And you know I'm gonna treat you right -- you give me fever"
He cupped her and found dampness. He pressed there and her soft
warm flesh seemed to flow around his finger. He moved his hand up
and down slowly, stroking the wet seam he'd found.
"- when you kiss me
Fever when you hold me tight
Fever -- in the morning
Fever all through the night"
"That's good, Billy," she whispered in his ear, caressing the
back of his head with her hand. "Move your hand up and down that
way. Ah, yes, that's good. You're making me feel very good, Billy.
Yes, do it like that. Yes. Oh yes. That's... Oh, that's very
nice, Billy. You're doing an excellent job."
"Sun lights up the daytime
Moon lights up the night
I light up when you call my name
And you know I'm gonna treat you right -- you give me fever"
She seemed to be wetter and warmer now, and she began pressing
her hips up against his hand and fingers.
"Everybody's got the fever
That is something you all know"
He lowered his lips to her breast again, kissing her nipple, and
she held his head with both hands, bucking her hips as he caressed
her with his hand, keeping time with the heavy beat of the music.
"Fever isn't such a new thing
Fever started long ago"
"Oh, Billy, this is so nice," she whispered. "It's been such a
long time. Here, let me get my hand down... Oh, there you are. My
goodness! Here, do you like it when I do this?"
"Captain Smiths and Pocahontas
Had a very mad affair
When her daddy tried to kill him
She said "Daddy, oh don't you dare" -- he gives me fever"
"Oh, god, do that some more, Billy. It feels so good. You're
making me... Oh, God, I'm going to... Ooh... I'm c-c... Billy...
Uhnh... It's happening. Oh... Oh, oh shit, shit, shit..."
"- with his kisses
Fever when he holds me tight
Fever -- I'm his missus
Oh daddy won't you treat him right"
She was coming. He could feel her vagina pulsating around his
fingers as she slowly writhed, moving her hips up against his hand.
It was an amazing revelation: a woman could come. It had never
occurred to him that this could happen. He kissed her breast again
and felt her breath puffing in his ear. He wondered how it felt for
her.
"Now you've listened to my story
Here's the point that I have made
Chicks were born to give you fever
Be it Fahrenheit or Centigrade -- they give you fever"
"Billy, that was lovely," she said, still breathless. She still
held him in her hand, but she had stopped stroking him when her
orgasm began. He moved his hips, sliding in and out of her gentle
grip.
"- when you kiss them
Fever if you live and learn
Fever -- 'till you sizzle"
She tightened her grip on him and pulled his head up to kiss him
deeply, and just as her tongue darted into his mouth he ejaculated,
groaning, unable to contain himself. His thick juice flowed between
them, coating their flesh.
"Oh what a lovely way to burn
Oh what a lovely way to burn
Oh what a lovely way to burn"
He found the towel and cleaned up the mess he'd made. He was
overwhelmed with gratitude, with the beauty of what they'd just
done. He was surprised to learn that it had been important to him
to bring her pleasure, to know that he had given her something nice.
The Platters were singing "Twilight Time." They listened
quietly for a few minutes, and then he leaned forward and kissed her
deeply, probing within her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers.
This continued, and seemed to re-energize her. He slipped his hand
between her legs again and she began gently rocking her hips against
his hand. Then she pushed his head down toward her crotch. "Your
mouth. Please," she said breathlessly.
Eat her pussy? Billy had never thought he would do anything
like that. He'd always thought it was sick and perverted, something
queers did, something a man couldn't possibly enjoy. But he wanted
to do this for her, simply because she asked.
So he did. Eagerly he plunged his face between her silky thighs
and immediately pressed his tongue as far into her musky dampness as
he could. He found that he liked her taste and began working in
earnest, using his tongue the way he had used his fingers.
As he did, she began pulling on his softened organ. "Here,
scoot up here a little," she said. He moved and felt her tongue
flicking him. He was filled with overwhelming tenderness and
affection for this woman.
"Oh, Billy," she whispered, "Your tongue, it's so wonderful...
You're going to make me... Ooh, Billy, this is so marvelous! Ooh,
I'm... Ooh... My... Oh, thank you... Oh, Billy..." Her hand
jerked on him as her spasms started, stronger this time, and she
ground her hips beneath him, pressing hard against his face.
Even though his tongue was tiring, he continued. Slowly,
gradually, she began moving her hips again, this time not as
frantically, and then she had a long, slow, gentle orgasm that
seemed to last for ten or fifteen seconds. He heard her begin
gasping near the end, and as the extended spasms ended she began
stroking him hurriedly with her hand. "Make it hard again, Billy,"
she said breathlessly. "I want you inside me."
Reluctantly, he pulled away from her and reversed himself,
sitting astride her chest, just as he'd imagined earlier in the
evening. Looking down he could see his cock drooping into the
valley between her breasts. He raised up to his knees and took hold
of himself, and began making those old practiced movements. She
brought her hands up to assist, caressing his thighs, his buttocks
and his balls.
He could feel his balls brushing against her breasts, and he
could see her face under his penis, and he could feel her hands
caressing, urging him. These sensations combined to give him a
feeling of deep serenity and he settled back on her, continuing to
stroke, his hand and penis now nestled between her breasts. She
raised her head, reaching for him, and snaked out her tongue, using
it to flick him and to loop around him as he continued to work on
himself.
It wasn't working. "Maybe we should take a little break," she
suggested.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, angry with himself. He rolled to the
side, throwing himself down on his back.
"You don't have to apologize," she said, reaching and stroking
his cheek. "You've been wonderful. No, I take that back. You've
been magnificent. You just need a little break." She rolled to the
other side of the bed and got up. "Would you like a beer?" she
asked, turning, gracing him with a view of a long line along her
body up from the graceful curve of her thigh, past her stomach, up
and around a breast.
"Okay," he said, the only word he could manage. The image
before him was so haunting, so extraordinary, that words failed to
come to his mind.
He watched as she walked to the little kitchenette, her hips
swaying from side to side, the globes of her bottom undulating.
Fuck college. Fuck the career. He would stay with this woman
forever if she'd have him. He was close to tears again. Nobody
deserved anything like this.
She opened the refrigerator and bent to retrieve two bottles of
beer. The light from the refrigerator illuminated her in silhouette
and from behind, through the apex of her legs, he could see a tuft
of her fur. Her effect on him was so powerful he felt a new
stirring in his groin.
"Do you smoke?" she asked, looking back over her shoulder.
"Sometimes," he answered. He'd tried it a few times.
Bonnie returned to the bed, carrying the beers, an ashtray and a
pack of cigarettes. Gracefully she climbed onto the bed and walked
on her knees to the middle, next to him. The wide triangle of her
pubic hair caught his eye and he reached out when she was near
enough, caressing, petting her, swirling a finger in her pelt.
She seated herself cross-legged next to him, facing him, and put
the ashtray and cigarettes on his stomach. "I'd like to have you
made into a coffee table," she said, handing him a beer and stroking
his flaccid penis briefly with cold fingers.
"I'd like to have a pillow made of you," he countered. "I could
lick you while I slept."
She laughed, lit a cigarette and handed him the pack and
matches. He fumbled a cigarette out of the pack and got it lit. It
was menthol, a long slender woman's cigarette. It wasn't too bad
and he was able to inhale it without coughing.
They smoked and drank beer. There was no need to talk for the
moment. He felt immensely comfortable, unconcerned at last about
his nakedness. He glanced down at his hopeless organ. It was
angled up his stomach, still a little thick but hopelessly soft, now
betraying him in another way.
Sensing his concern she reached out and caressed him again,
tracing cool fingers along his length, touching lightly. "Don't
worry about this fellow," she said. "I'll take care of it soon
enough."
He finished his beer and the cigarette quickly. Combined, the
alcohol and the nicotine brought a little buzz to his head. He put
his beer bottle on the floor and reached to put a hand on her thigh.
"You're wonderful," he said.
"You're not so bad yourself," she said. She stubbed out her
cigarette and leaned across him, her breasts brushing his chest, to
put the ashtray and her bottle on the floor. Then she raised her
arms, unfastened her hair and let it tumble over her shoulders. It
was long enough to cover her breasts. Her look changed; she became
even more beautiful, more mysterious. She stretched out beside him,
facing him, resting a foot on his ankle. He put his arm under her
head and she snuggled close, her head on his shoulder, the full
length of her body pressed against his side. She rested her hand
lightly on his chest.
"Well," she said, "we've been in bed together for a while now
but you're still a virgin. I haven't kept my promise."
"It's my fault. I'm sorry," he muttered.
"Don't worry. I'll give you another chance." She paused. "You
know, if we use you as a standard, I'm almost a virgin too."
"What do you mean?" he asked. "Didn't you have a baby?"
"Billy, I was with a man just a little while after Debbie was
born, and only twice since then. I've gone without sex for almost
as long as you have."
"Really? You're kidding, aren't you? A beautiful woman like
you?"
"Really. It's not something I'm particularly happy about."
"Do you miss it?"
"Of course, silly." She rubbed her hand up and down his chest.
"Any woman would. You've seen how much I enjoy it."
"I didn't know..." he said.
"Know what?"
"Well, I didn't know a woman could, you know..."
"Have an orgasm?"
"I never thought about it. I didn't know."
"I even masturbate, Billy. Just like you do. That's my
substitute for sex these days."
"You do? Really? How often?"
"I don't know, every week or two, I guess."
He could imagine her, lying in bed, hand between her legs, hips
moving up and down. Alone. His image of this was erotic but
dismal. "I'm really sorry," he said. He hugged her, caressing her
face, pulling her close. "There must be plenty of guys who would
like to have sex with you."
"Well, it's not like I haven't had opportunities. Especially
with married men. You'd be surprised if you knew some of the men in
this town who tried to get me into bed with them."
"I'll bet. But doesn't that make it worse?"
She sighed. Her wandering hand moved lower. "Sometimes I've
been tempted, Billy. But it didn't seem to be worth doing because
of all the trouble it could cause."
He touched her face; caressed her cheek again. "That's
terrible," he said. His feeling was sincere. "I'm really sorry."
She touched his penis, lifted it, closed her hand around it.
"Well, we're here to fix that," she said, stroking him gently.
"Would you like me to do something with this thing?"
"Oh, yes."
Bonnie moved her head, kissing his chest, licking and trailing a
path of kisses down the front of him, moving her hand gently on him
as she traveled. Soon she reached his groin and went past, kissing
her way down his thigh.
She returned to him, licking her way up the underside of his
penis, up to the bell- shaped head and around it, finally enclosing
him with her warm mouth and tongue. She moved her head up and down,
her tongue dancing around the sensitive tip at the top of each
stroke.
He reached to touch her and found her bottom. He caressed it
gently and she moved her hips to show him that she liked what he was
doing.
There was no urgency. He simply immersed himself in the moment,
enjoying her touches and their communion. Gradually, very
gradually, he became erect. She caressed him gently with her hand,
sliding up and down on him. "You look enormous, "she said.
She rolled, straddling him, and held him with both hands for a
moment, caressing him. "Are you ready for this?" she asked.
"Oh, god yes," he gasped. It was about to happen. He could
barely contain himself, and his fear of ejaculating too quickly was
gone. She would understand.
"I'm ready too," she purred, meeting his eyes. With that, she
raised herself and guided him under her and moved herself down and
around him, pausing when only the head of his penis was inside her.
"Oh, Billy," she said, a little breathlessly, "oh, my... This is
going to be so wonderful for us."
Wishing for brighter light, he watched, anxious to see himself
penetrate her, and when she paused he felt a twitch, as if he might
be about to come, and he gasped. He wanted to raise his hips, to
plunge fully into her, but he didn't. He wanted her to be in
charge.
She began lowering herself with excruciating slowness and he
watched his cock gradually disappear into her, behind her mat of
hair, and he experienced for the first time the sensation of
entering a glorious place, a place that was warm and slick, ready
for him. He pressed, rocking his hips upward, deepening himself
until his pubic bone met hers, until their pubic hair mingled as he
disappeared completely into her.
Bonnie groaned, a long guttural animal sound, and twitched her
hips, settling him more. "Oh my god, Billy," she moaned, arching
her back and raising her arms to pull her hair away from her face.
"Why did I wait so long? This is so wonderful. Oh, Billy, thank
you so much for being here, for being patient, for being such a good
lover."
The sensations were magnificent for him as well, far beyond
anything he'd ever imagined in his masturbatory fantasies. She was
silky and warm, welcoming him and gripping him tenderly, stretching
and expanding to accommodate his breadth and length.
She began moving, her hands on her thighs, raising herself up
and lowering herself, rolling her hips forward and backward as she
did, tugging at him, bending him a little with each stroke. Then
she slipped her hands forward, onto his stomach, up to his
shoulders, and leaned, pressing her breasts to his face, against his
lips, her hair cascading around his head. He sucked and kissed and
licked her breasts as she continued to move and roll her hips. Then
she raised herself again and began to increase the tempo of her
movements. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. Her eyes were
closed. Her breasts swaying with her movements.
He moaned involuntarily. He was inside this woman, and never
had he felt anything as exquisite as the sensations of her soft
silkiness enveloping him, sliding on him, caressing him. Tears
rolled from his eyes; he was overwhelmed by the majestic beauty of
her, the majestic beauty of what they could do for one another.
"Oh, thank you for being here, Billy Miller. Thankyou,
thankyou, thankyou... This is the most wonderful moment I can
remember. Your... Your cock is so big and so hard and so perfect
and so deep inside me I can hardly stand it. It makes me want to
scream, Billy. Oh... Fuck me Billy!"
Billy reached out and touched her stomach, pressing his hands
there briefly before sliding them to grasp her hips, helping her
move. "You're so beautiful," he gasped. It's so soft and warm
inside you. I'm where I belong. You're the best thing that has
ever happened to me. I could stay here forever!"
His words seemed to trigger her. She began moving very rapidly,
grinding her pubic bone against his, throwing her hips forward and
backward, panting and grunting, faster and faster until she fell
forward and pressed her lips to his, plunging her tongue into his
mouth. A long soft moan escaped her and she seemed to convulse and
froze, rigid and motionless. He could feel her clamping down on him
and he grabbed her buttocks and angled his hips up, trying to force
himself into her more deeply, trying to get as far into her as he
could.
She leaned forward and buried her face against his neck. She
was panting now, relaxing bit by bit as the convulsions inside her
faded and ebbed. "You will never know how wonderful this is for
me," she panted.
He started moving his hips, slowly sliding in and out again.
There was no urgency in him. He wasn't trying to accomplish
anything; he just wanted to caress her, stroke her insides this way
forever.
"Nice," she whispered into his ear, and kissed him on his neck.
Then, without warning, she rolled off him. She positioned herself
on her back beside him, legs bent. "Come to me, Billy," she said.
He sat and turned and moved between her legs. She held up her
arms to welcome him. He pressed the tip of his penis against her
lightly and she lifted her hips slightly, positioning herself.
"Push now," she said.
He did, gliding inside again. He held himself above her, just
low enough that his chest brushed her breasts, and he began moving
himself in and out. She hooked her heels behind his legs and began
raising her hips to meet his inward thrusts, angling herself to make
his penetration as deep as possible. The soft friction of her inner
walls against his flesh was so perfect, so delicate that he felt
himself getting ready, and fought to hold it back.
"Ooh, Billy, this is wonderful," she gasped. "I'm going to come
again, Billy. Are you? Oh, here I go... Oh, shit... Fuck me
Billy, please!"
He leaned down to kiss her deeply, probing inside her mouth as
he probed inside her vagina below. Then she came, very gently,
quietly, softly grunting, her breath puffing on his cheek, her
passage gripping his hardness softly, easily. She gripped his
buttocks with her hands, pressing him into her as this happened,
grinding her pubic bone against his.
"Ooh, Billy," she gasped. "That was wonderful. Why did you
hold back? Weren't you ready?"
"Oh, yes," he gasped. "But I -- well, I didn't know if -- I
didn't know if it would be okay if I could, uh, well, I have a
rubber..."
"You don't need it. You can come inside me, Billy. I want you
to. Do it now."
It was as if she had released him from bondage. He felt immense
freedom now, and began moving, starting very slowly, gradually
increasing his pace until he was pounding her with all his strength,
battering her so hard that she rocked up and down under him.
By this time both of them were perspiring in the warm room, and
she had a light sheen of sweat between her breasts. Sweat dripped
from his nose and joined hers there. He dropped his head to her
shoulder, resting more of his weight on her, and continued to slam
into her brutally, as fast as he could.
She accepted him. She helped him. She angled her hips to
receive his pounding, gripping and pulling his buttocks, urging him
to smash into her even harder. He felt the rush beginning, growing,
welling up into the base of his penis, and although he knew it would
happen he was afraid it wouldn't happen before he died from the
exquisite beauty of the moment.
Then it did happen. Billy Wagner began to ejaculate, flowing
into this woman, his first woman, pouring his essence into Bonnie
McBride, frozen in space, frozen in time, nothing moving except his
surging penis and his pounding heart. As he drained into her she
began an intense, protracted orgasm of her own, convulsing around
him, and together they cried out, celebrating the moment they had
created, memorializing the instant.
* * * * *
Billy went home from college for Thanksgiving break and drove by
Bonnie McBride's apartment the day after Thanksgiving. The place
was empty. He parked at the curb and sat in the car for a long
time, looking up at the apartment window.
Later somebody told him they thought she'd moved to
Indianapolis.
END
Bonnie McBride, Copyright (c) 1999, Sidney Durham, all rights
reserved.
Comments welcome! sidney_durham@my-dejanews.com
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