Gender: Male Age: 63 Location: Canada's Wet Coast
|Introduction: Two people find love in the wake of disaster|
The Beach House
It had been one hell of a storm the previous night, with trees downed, both behind the house and along the lake front beach that was the place’s only saving grace. Mary Ellen surveyed the damage, and her already crappy mood headed for the dark end of the spectrum even more than it had been when she woke up.
“Bastard! Fucking son-of-a-bitch!”, she mumbled to anyone that cared to listen. Except there was no one. Hadn’t been for months, and it didn’t look like that situation was about to change in a rush. Mary Ellen wanted to find a comfortable spot, sit down, cry, and pray the some Divine entity would just snuff out her miserable existence!
At 26 years old, Mary Ellen Glasser had accepted that anything and everything she touched would turn to shit! Her father had spent his whole life building the family business, amassing a considerable fortune in the process. When he succumbed to a heart attack two years ago, his wife had unravelled like a ball of string, joining her husband within the year. They said she died of a broken heart, and Mary Ellen wondered just who the hell “they” were. She had also inherited the reins of the family business, which should have been solid enough to provide her with sufficient income to live comfortably for the rest of her life. But it just hadn’t turned out that way. She’d managed to convert a thriving business into a financial horror story in just two years. In fact, she had to sell the old mansion that had been in the family for four generations to pay off the outstanding debt she’d accumulated.
Now all that was left was the old summer estate that her Dad had been so proud of. Maybe “estate” wasn’t quite the word to describe it any more. There were two prominent buildings on the property, an old rickety barn, and the main house, a sprawling one-storey edifice that had seen many parties and social gatherings in its life. When Mary Ellen had been a young girl, it was considered a rare privilege for the local gentry to be invited to one of her mother’s gala events. Such an invitation would immediately send a person’s social status into the stratosphere.
At this point in time, the barn was in better condition.
Raising her head out of her hands, Mary Ellen continued to survey the destruction through her tear-blurred vision. There was something on the beach that looked male to her because of its overall shape. Her first thought was that he was dead.
“Shit! Just what I need, another body to deal with!”, she mumbled to herself. “God dammit, of all the places to die, why the fuck did you have to pick this place? Couldn’t you have floated off somewhere else? You son-of-a-bitch!”.
Dragging her sorry ass off the ground, Mary Ellen stumbled down the rocky beach to check for life signs, silently praying that there wouldn’t be any. Whoever it was, or had been, was lying face down, naked except for a pair of old cut-offs, and looking like he’d lost a fight with the shark from Jaws. But he definitely had been a good-looking guy. His muscular framework suggested that either he had been a labourer of some sort, or spent a lot of time in the gym. Just her luck. She finally met someone that wasn’t the second-ugliest man on the planet, and the asshole had to be dead! And on her beach, too!
Mary Ellen wasn’t the prettiest girl in the world, but she’d never get the “Wicked Witch” part from Wizard Of Oz based on her looks. She was all of 5' 8", but would need to stay dressed in the shower to tip the scales over the 100-pound mark. Her bust was a mere hint that she was female, her waist maybe 6" narrower than her hips, and as for an ass, she just didn’t have one. Her body was, in her mind, just another example of her bad luck. Even Twiggy had more shape than she did.
Stooping over the inert body, Mary Ellen checked for a pulse. Shit, he was alive! Maybe not by much, but there was still life in this Greek god-like body. How long that condition would last was anybody’s guess, but she couldn’t just leave him here to die! She was also vaguely aware that, with her luck, she’d attempt to nurse him back to health, and the poor bastard would croak as a result of her touch. Shit! Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. The poor son-of-a-bitch was doomed no matter what she did.
It took Mary Ellen almost an hour to drag the body from its landing point on the beach into the house, and get him installed in the only spare bed she had. Her first idea was to roll him onto a piece of plywood and use that as a litter. The plywood weighed more than she did, and adding a man’s weight made it impossible for her to even pick up one end, let alone move it anywhere! So she had used some old logs as rollers, moving a foot along the terrain before shifting the last log from the rear of the makeshift platform to the front, thereby transporting the man’s carriage over the two hundred yard distance leap-frog fashion. Now that she had him in the house and on the lumpy old bed, she had no idea what to do next.
Dave Keelson drifted in and out of consciousness as he lay on that lumpy mattress. Well, that was his name, but he didn’t remember that fact. Actually, he didn’t remember anything. He had no idea where he was, who he was, or how he’d gotten to wherever this place was. In his mind, he was born this age about ten minutes ago. Sure, he could think, had cognitive thoughts in his brain, and could form words in his mind, but not much else. Oh wait. There was something else on the periphery of his consciousness. Somebody, or something, kept poking and prodding his aching body. It sort of looked female, about mid-twenties, but was still waiting for puberty to arrive. The confusion in his head overwhelmed his senses, and the blissful blackness of unconsciousness saved him from having to think.
Mary Ellen had no idea of how she was going to do it, but her maternal instincts screamed to her that she had to nurse this poor bastard back to health. Over the course of the next two weeks, she fed him, cleaned him, attended to his basic bodily needs. Unlike her usual string of luck, he actually survived long enough to regain consciousness! For Mary Ellen, it was the first successful effort she could ever remember! Eventually, this gorgeous hunk of man remained awake long enough for her to try talking to him.
“Hey, how you feeling?” she asked.
“Unghh! Like something out of the rear of a horse.”, was all he could think of for a reply. “Who are you? Where am I? Better yet, who am I?”
“What, you don’t have a name?”, she queried. “Well, my name’s Mary Ellen, you’re in my house on Lake Simon, and I have no idea who you are. I found you laying on the beach a couple days ago, and I’ve done everything I can think of to keep you alive. After that, you know about as much as I do”.
“Shit, I must have a name of some sort!”, he croaked. “Either that, or I fell out of the sky and landed here.”. His anger was born out of frustration, and this . . . whatever she was . . . wasn’t making the return of his memory any easier. The fog in his mind just wasn’t going to dissipate, which scared the shit out of him.
“Okay, I’ll call you John until you can remember. Think you can live with that?” she declared.
“Yeah, I guess it’s probably better than ‘Hey, you’, but not by much”, he groused back at her. “Mary Ellen, huh? I’ll try to remember that, too”, then something approaching gratitude swept through his head. “Oh, by the way? Thanks.”
“For what? And you’re welcome . . . I think”. Mary Ellen almost snapped her response at him, but something demanded that she pull in her claws.
“For nursing me back to life, for a start. Or was that the wrong thing to say?” Christ, this creature had all the social skills of a sand pile.
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t just leave you where I found you, but I’m not sure why I’ve spent the last two days trying to save your sorry ass This is my home! The first person that I bring home, and he has to be a snarly son-of-a-bitch. But I’m glad to see that you might survive. Just don’t ask me why, though.” Jesus, if she only had one nerve left in her body, this asshole had managed to find it and rankle her ire.
“Mary Ellen, look . . .”
“Call me Meg. My Dad made that one up by combining all my initials; M, E, and G” she interrupted him.
John continued, “I’m sorry for putting you into whatever mood has gotten you so pissed off. So let’s start again with a clean slate this time. It seems you saved my life, and I’m grateful. As soon as I get out of this . . . what is this thing, anyway? A bed? There’s things sticking out of it, jabbing me all over. I gotta move.”
Hmm, that apology went well. Even if her social skills were the shits, his weren’t much better.
“Sorry, what I wanted to say was that, when I can get on my feet, I’d like to do whatever I can to repay you. I don’t know if I have any money, but I’ll attempt any chores you might need taken care of. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay . . . but not until you’re up to it. You’ve been a pain in the ass so far, and I really don’t want to have to go through this nursing shit again if I can help it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go and find you something to eat. You stay right there on that bed until I get back”. It was more of a command than a request.
Over the course of the next four weeks, John’s strength slowly returned, due in part to the exertion of cleaning up the mess that Meg’s cottage had become, and because of her attention to his health needs. As a secondary benefit, they both tried to get along with each other with a modicum of success. She was a nice enough person in his mind, but that undeveloped body had absolutely no appeal. She, on the other hand, had begun to have feelings that were as far from maternal as you could get. Even in her wildest dreams, there had never been a real, live person like John that could make her blood boil. For the first time in her miserable life, she actually had thoughts of sex! The reality that she was still a virgin at this ripe old age invoked a swell of anger in her that she couldn’t explain. Over the years, Meg had accepted that she’d live her whole life like that, but it still made her seethe inside sometimes.
By the end of their sixth week together, both Meg and John found themselves becoming more comfortable in each other’s company, to the point where they didn’t try to scratch each other’s eyes out. John had spent days removing the debris of the storm off the beach and around the house. He’d also repaired most of the broken windows, rehung all the doors that had fallen off their hinges, and even the holes he found in the roofing. Inspired by his efforts, Meg had given the place a thorough scrubbing from floor to ceiling. It was starting to look like a house again. It was also starting to put some muscle on her scrawny frame, a fact that John didn’t fail to both notice and appreciate. But she was still as flat as a fence board, and had nothing for a figure. His instincts indicated where her breasts should be, yet all he could fathom was a need for a sign on her T-shirt that read, “For Lease, or will Build To Suit.”
It was at the end of that two month period that Meg had inadvertently walked from the bathroom after her shower without wrapping herself in a towel first. She wasn’t trying to be provocative by any means. It was just a simple oversight. John had picked that particular moment to come through the front door, and the inevitable differences in their physical make-up snagged his attention as he gazed on her naked body for the first time ever. Meg‘s reaction was to freeze in her tracks at John’s visual invasion of her naked self. They stared at each other for what seemed like days. Meg wasn’t sure if she wanted to run, or just melt into the floor, but his assessment of her left a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach that wasn’t all that unpleasant. If the truth be known, she was actually feeling quite happy at being ogled for the first time in her life.
John couldn’t quite get his head wrapped around the fact that Meg was standing in front of him naked, and not all that unappealing. Hell, she even had tits! Not as big as the thickness of his hand, mind you, but they were there. Well, sort of. Shit, her nipples were almost as big as the orbs that carried them. And it wasn’t as though she didn’t have hips. It was just that they were scrawny enough to be almost the same size as her skinny little waist. Even her butt was only a hint, although it looked firm enough to carry her weight when she sat, but not by much. Yet, there was something about her that stirred an undefined feeling in his loins. He didn’t know what that feeling was, but it wasn’t one of discomfort.
They held each other’s gaze with their eyes for several minutes, and John found that his face was hot from the blush that had crept over him. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he was embarrassed that he’d invaded her privacy, but breaking that rivetting stare was beyond his abilities for what felt like an eternity. It wasn’t as if she’d ever qualify as a pin-up model or anything, and her physical attributes were pretty well non-existent. Still, there was just something about her that he couldn’t get over!
Meg, like John, felt this same mesmerizing magnetism. Someone was staring at her naked body, and apparently loving the sight of her. Mary Ellen Glasser, the flat-chested, no-hipped, flat-assed ugly duckling of the female persuasion, and this hunk of man was fascinated by her? She soaked the attention up like a sponge, loving every second of it, wanting him to ogle her even more. She could even detect a slight moisture in her crotch. Goddamned if his staring wasn’t getting her horny! Now there was one for the books.
Eventually the moment faded, and John was torn between embarrassment and intrigue. All he could think of was to apologize for the intrusion.
“Shit, Meg! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare like that. I’ll just go back outside, and you can let me know when you’re decent again before I come back in.”
“It’s okay, John. I guess I should have covered myself up before I started parading around after that shower” she apologized in kind, then added, “But, to be honest, I kind of enjoyed you looking at me like that. No one has ever done that before. It was kind of exciting, actually.”
What? She’d enjoyed it? Either this girl was an exhibitionist or desperate! The word “modesty” didn’t seem to be a part of her vocabulary though, and that realization caught him off-guard. While she didn’t evoke lustful desires in his mind, seeing her naked form also didn’t give him a headache either. He turned to walk back out the door, leaving her to cover herself up without his supervision. As he reached for the door handle, she stopped him dead in his tracks.
“John? You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to” she mumbled softly. “Hell, we’re both adults, and a little nudity shouldn’t be a problem. Should it?” She really didn’t want him to go, to leave her behind, feeling empty, uncared for, or about. Hell, what she really wanted was for him to ogle her some more, and maybe even drool at the sight of her!
John found himself wanting to be in two places at once. The first was anywhere but here, with that ungood feeling of being a voyeur. The other was to continue to drink up that vision of this under-developed woman that excited a part of him he couldn’t put a name to. Despite the inner conflict, he turned and looked her straight in the eye.
“Umm, Meg? You don’t mind? I mean, if I see you naked? I think I’d like that . . . sort of”. He had a tough time getting those words formed in his head, and they came out more as a squeak than a statement.
Meg advanced to where John was standing, presenting him with a complete panorama of her nakedness. God, she wanted to wrap her arms around this man, hold him, and kiss him so hard that his jaw cracked. She wanted to feel his hands roam all over her skin, touch her diminutive feminine features, and take her to a place that she’d only dreamed of. For the umpteenth time in her life, she cursed her virginity and the reality of its continued existence. The raw truth smacked her like a winter storm. She wanted this beast to fuck her until she was worn out!
As Meg cocooned his neck in her embrace, John discovered that not only did her kiss not revolt him, but that he actually enjoyed it. This semi-female apparition could even be something he could get quite used to. With that body, he had no idea of why, but it didn’t change the fact that he was beginning to find her appealing, even on the verge of desirable. While his reaction was unfathomable, he kissed her back, softly at first, then with more need and passion. Something about her had ignited a fire in his soul. He could feel the blood begin to engorge his manhood, heralding the initiation of a full-blown erection. That was something he hadn’t remembered experiencing since she had rescued him from the jaws of death. And what was more, he not only enjoyed the sensation, but also welcomed it.
Meg was in seventh heaven wrapped in John’s strong arms. God, she wanted him, wanted to feel his demand of her body, wanted him to relieve her of that cursed virginity of hers. Her animal lust began to consume her very soul. A glimmer of an idea began to form in her brain. She would have this man, this god-like creature, deep inside her womanhood, even if she had to rape the son-of-a-bitch!
“John, touch me”, she whispered in his ear as they broke their kiss to gasp a much-needed breath of air. “Touch my breasts, my nipples!” Her plea was somewhere between a request and a demand. And John felt helpless to deny her. His hand desperately sought her diminutive boob, the ones that were barely larger than her nipples. But the feel of it, and the hardening nipple, sent a thrill through his system that even he found exciting. His fingers instinctively grasped her, twisting, pulling, teasing her teats as they hardened under his manipulations. God, but she was exciting him! His growing manhood stiffened, stretched, and became a full-blown erection. By the grace of God, it seemed to find its way towards his belly instead of down his pant leg. The latter would have been downright painful, considering its 8-inch erect length.
Meg felt John’s engorging cock pressing against her pubic mound, thrilling at its impression into her lower abdomen. In her animalistic heat, she found herself pressing tighter against his evolving bulge, wanting to feel its nakedness probing her own. His hands caressing her tits elicited moans of desire that only inflamed her lust even more. She wanted his cock deep inside her, needed it, craved it, demanded it. God, she wanted him to fuck her more than she wanted life itself! That fact alone had her beginning to hump against his groin in reactionary instinct. The moisture oozing from her pussy threatened to become a river bursting through a dam. She could feel the first telltale rivulets tracking down the inside of her thighs.
Meg‘s pelvic gyrations weren’t lost on John. The pressure of her mound on his cock drove him into the fires of her heat, calling him, begging him, almost demanding that he stoke the fires of their building lust until it completely consumed them. His hands migrated down her chest, over her tiny tummy, and through the forest of her soft pubic hair on their journey to the juncture of her thighs. One hand continued its questing search for that hint of an ass cheek that screamed for his grip as a lever to hold her even closer to his body than he thought possible. Its arrival on her ass coincided with the other hand’s touch to the top of her now-soaked slit, generating a guttural groan of welcome and animal lust. She shifted her legs apart to grant him full access to her wet femininity, and to maintain her contact against his massive hunk of manly meat. Damn, those fucking cut-offs were all that existed between her naked flesh and his, and she detested their presence. Her hands caressed John’s arms as they moved down to his waist where she was determined to eliminate the denim wall that stood between her and the burning source of his heat. John began to move his arms away from her body with an element of indecision until she stopped his retreat.
“No! Don’t stop, John! Your cut-offs are becoming uncomfortable against my skin.” and she slid her hands between them to access the fasteners. “May I?” she pleaded. In response, He’d been working outside in the warm sun, and had taken his shirt off. When he’d entered the house, he’d removed his boots in an effort to keep the outside debris outside.
John moved just enough to allow her access, feeling the delicious anticipation of her release of his straining cock from its confines. She fumbled with the top button, then dragged the zipper down. Hooking her fingers into the waistband, she manipulated his clothing down his legs until gravity completed the movement for her. John stepped out of the garment, kicking it away from their bodies. With the two of them now naked, Meg wrapped her arms around John’s middle, reclaimed her position against his lips, and pulled him to her as hard as she could. God, the heat of his throbbing blood-engorged cock felt like a branding iron against her belly! She responded to its heat with a demand of her own, running her tongue over his until he yielded to her need to consume that part of him. Quickly seizing the given opportunity of conquest, she entered, enjoying the sensuous textures of his teeth, his palette, his own tongue. As they duelled with each other, exchanging saliva and sensations, neither believed that this fire inside them could burn any hotter.
John had attained Meg‘s clitoris with his finger, and it’s emergence to his touch was rewarded by the soft stimulation that it demanded. Leaving the protective confines of her hood, that sensitive organ with its thousands of nerve endings hardened and caressed John’s digit, sending a heretofore never experienced flood of delight and desire throughout Meg’s entire body. She moaned, then groaned, then mewled as a result of the pleasure he forced into her consciousness. Her body couldn’t get enough of him, and the trickle of juices from her cunt became a small river, flooding every part of that valley of pleasure between her thighs. John’s finger felt impelled to discover the mysteries of the headwaters of her juice’s flow, leaving his thumb to mark his existing claim that he had made on her nub.
Searching the gash of her sex, John’s exploration revealed her entrance to his senses, and he sought further knowledge of this body that beckoned him like the sirens of Greek mythology. As he entered her up to the first knuckle, she sharply gasped in blissful welcome, then crushed him against her pussy with a fear that if she didn’t, he might leave her here on the edge of fulfilment, empty and alone. Again! But as he advanced inside her empty canal of love, she relaxed sufficiently to capture another knuckle’s worth of his probe. God, he felt so good inside her! Every fibre in her being screamed that he delve inside her quivering vagina as deeply as was possible. The walls of her cunny fluttered lightly against John’s finger, beckoning him deeper and deeper, until he met the resistance of her maidenhead. It took several seconds before the nature of his discovery registered in his lust-crazed brain. Holy shit! She was a virgin? His comprehension of that fact almost forced him to withdraw from the heat of her love channel completely. But the confusion of his dilemma precluded any movement at all.
“Meg? Is that . . . I mean, are you . . . “ He could barely form the words, but he had to know. “Meg, are you still a virgin?” He was incredulous at the possibility. This creature had seen the passage of a quarter century, at least, and yet was still as pure as a new-born baby! On the one hand he was frightened of the implications, yet thrilled at the prospect of being her first. Suddenly he realized that if such was the case, it had become more important to him to make her fist experience one of beauty, pleasure, and . . . dare he say it? . . . love!
“Y-y-e-e-s-s, “Meg confessed. That he might no longer want her sent chills through her whole body. She was on the verge of tears at the thought that she had been so close to Nirvana, only to be shoved away from its entry gate for all time. “John, no one’s ever had me before. I’m not the most attractive woman there is, so the chance of becoming a complete woman has never arisen . . . until now. I’ve dreamed of this moment my whole life. Please don’t deny me now. I want it, need it, have to have it. More importantly, right now I want you. Every part of you, deep inside my heart, my soul, my pussy. I’m begging you, John. Take me! Make me a complete woman!”, and she clung to him for dear life, praying that he wouldn’t reject her as so many others had all her life.
John answered her plea with a passionate kiss of urgent demand. God, she was a virgin, and she wanted him! He felt honoured, humbled, and goddamned privileged! The understanding inside him that he wanted her almost as badly was a rude awakening, but he wouldn’t deny her, himself, or the two of them that were about to become as one.
When John broke that answering kiss, both of them knew their destiny lay before them, but down the hall from where they stood before the openness of the large living room windows and glazed french door. Moving as one entity, they began their journey to the bedrooms. John remembered how uncomfortable the spare mattress had proved to be with the springs insisting on freedom from its confines. He had a quick vision of one of those springs bursting through Meg, deflating her like a vinyl sex doll. With a barely perceptible increase in speed, he propelled her towards her own room and the potential increase in her comfort it might offer.
Entering the room, Meg lay gently on the mattress on her back, her arms extended in a plea for her lover’s return to them. John lay beside her, holding her in the strength of his embrace, reassuring her with passionate kisses combined with loving caresses to her diminutive breasts. They may have been excessively small, but they drew him magically like a wish come true. Capturing one of her pebble-hard nipples between his lips, he swirled and pulled on it, then lightly nipping it with his teeth. Meg softly howled at the pleasure of it, the welcome pain of his onslaught, the need to be possessed. All too soon, she felt him leave that sanctuary as his kisses traced a moist path down her belly, pausing briefly to greet her belly button before navigating the softness of her pussy patch. She had no cognitive concept of where he was going, but anticipated the possibility of his pleasuring the scintillating and erogenous delights that lay between her legs. As his lips first touched the tip of her clit, it felt like a million volts of pure pleasure had been unleashed, and Meg literally screamed in lust and excitement. No one had ever kissed her there before, and her first comprehension of his action yielded an unbelieved perception of the pleasure she had just been consumed by. In answer to his questing lips, she spread her thighs as wide as she could manage, breathlessly anticipating and craving his invasion of the centre of her femininity. He didn’t disappoint her, running his tongue between the lips of her labia, spreading them, opening her outer lips, then invading the very heart of her love valley. Just the feel of him down there made her juices flow like water!
John’s tongue slid inside Meg’s vagina, probing and exploring the depths of her, his own lust fuelled and driven by the sweet flavour of her juices. God, she was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. Between that and her scent, he was instantly addicted to her entire sex. Deeper he went, impelled to sample the source of this heavenly wine that flowed from her virgin love hole. The combination of his tongue and his fingers on her clit started a warmth in Meg’s groin that spread like wildfire, coursing through her thighs, belly, and eventually her whole being. She’d never known such pleasurable rapture could exist. Its pervasiveness reduced her breathing to short ragged gasps, controlled her entire musculature, and sent her into spasms of pure bliss. She welcomed its arrival with a scream of complete abandon, almost willing it to replace everything else she knew in life. And just as she didn’t think it could get any better, her whole world exploded in a cascade of blinding light.
John sensed, more than anything else, the eruption of Meg’s climax. Her walls gripped and pulled on his tongue, wanting more and more of him inside her. His patience for her surrender was rewarded with a flood of the nectar he wanted, needed, craved, was addicted to. She filled his mouth with her girl-cum, overflowing to smear herself over his face and down his chin. His thirst was so great that he felt compelled to retrieve every drop she had blessed him with. As Meg eased down from the adrenalin-fuelled high of her orgasm, and John had drunk of her juices that whetted his craving, his throbbing cock demanded her soft and velvety pussy for its own. Moving back up the length of her body, he manoeuvred his manhood to the very entrance to her centre, then quickly rolled over so that she lay on his belly, her possession of his turgid member at her command and control.
“Meg? Take me as slowly and as deeply as you feel comfortable. There’s going to be some pain, and I can’t help that. When you’re ready for all of me, you’ll know.” They were the first words either one had spoken in almost an hour, but their reassurance flooded Meg’s heart with warmth, acceptance, and maybe even a flicker of love. This man actually cared about her feelings, her fear, her need and want of him. With tears of happiness beginning to flow down her cheeks she began to slide the mass of his cock into her waiting cunt, letting herself stretch and expand to accommodate him inside her. Despite her initial misgivings, his entrance into her fuelled a desire, demand, and overpowering lustful requirement to have him as deep in her as she could. The contact of his cockhead against her hymen only drove her lust to a higher plane, but the discomfort of its intrusion into her conscious made her pause. The need to give herself completely, though, became an imperative that coursed through her entire existence. With a grip of finality, she pushed herself down over his invading phallus and felt the sharp pains of dismemberment.
“O-w-w-w-w-w-w!” she howled, the sharp stabs in her belly shooting like fireworks throughout her groin. Holy shit, did that ever hurt! She could feel those tears of joy changing to tears of suffering, and it scared the hell out of her.
“Meg, just lay there. The pain will ease soon, then you’ll begin to feel the pleasure. Until it changes, don’t be in a rush. I’ll be here, waiting” and John kissed her softly both as a gesture of reassurance, and because her pain coursed through his body too.
Meg waited apprehensively until the agony of her rupturing slowly yielded to the pleasure from the organ that filled her, its presence driving her to envelope every inch of it. Resuming her consumption of John’s rock-hard cock, she felt compelled to feed on it until she ingested the full length of him deep inside her. The more she took of him, the more she wanted its capture and possession. As he became buried to the hilt, her clit rubbed against his pubic bone, sending more of those jolts of pure pleasure throughout her. She hadn’t anticipated that occurrence, and gasped deeply as the effect blasted through her. Almost as if by instinct, she began to rock her hips, causing John’s cock to slide inside her cunt as it radiated more of those rapturous sensations to her sex-starved body. The more she rocked, the more she craved. Within minutes, she was sliding him in and out of her, faster and faster, as the threat of another orgasmic explosion manifested itself in her very centre. That threat both scared her and forced her to embrace its consumption of her. The more she slid John in and out, the more she couldn’t stop, even if her life depended on it.
The feeling of Meg on his cock as she pleasured herself flowed through John with as much pervasiveness at it generated in his lover. She was oh-so-wet, so soft, so tight on his prick, taking him, giving to him, demanding that he fill her with his semen. The lifting of his balls as they created that massive load of sperm at the base of his shaft was almost a welcome relief against the pressure. The imminence of his orgasm was balanced with the harsh reality that their coupling was finite. While he welcomed his release, a part of him screamed that he wanted this feeling to last forever. Succumbing to the forces within him, John gave himself to the pleasures about to command his body, and his soul to this woman . . . for now she really was a woman . . . as his ejaculation streamed up his shaft on its way to her virgin womb.
“Meg! God, Baby, I’m gonna cum! Oh shit! Argh! I’m C-C-U-U-U-M-M-M-I-I-I-N-N-N-G-G-G!!” and the first of many streams of hot sticky spunk erupted from his cockhead as it spurted and spewed inside Meg. That first rope was the trigger to her own climax, its demanding control of her body moving slowly from deep inside her belly, radiating through her thighs, legs, stomach, and pussy, then spreading like an exploding nova to every part of her. There were no words she could find to express the rapture of her second-ever orgasm, just a low mewl that grew quickly into a loud scream of lustful expression. John’s succeeding spurts of his life-giving seed only augmented that sensation, driving her further and further to the peak of her passion. Only the cessation of his cum blasts kept her from passing out with the pure bliss of their union. John’s twitching, throbbing, all invading manhood sent aftershock-like surges up and down her body as her walls fluttered, contracted, and flagellated on his organ, drawing every ounce of his semen out of him in an vain effort to fill her womb to its fullest extent.
The tension of her orgasm slowly eased, and Meg became aware of the man beneath her that had taken her body to that magical world of complete womanhood. God, she’d never be able to get enough of him, of the feelings he evoked in her, of the joyous lust he fired in her soul! In a desperate bid to prolong their joining, she laid her full body weight on top of him and attempted to trap his penis inside her vagina by clamping her thighs tightly closed around him. His semen inside her felt like she had inserted the last piece of a complex jigsaw puzzle, forging a glow of victory in her soul. She’d waited for this day her whole life! Now that it had arrived, she was in no hurry to let its memory fade until it was permanently etched in her mind.
As they both returned from that wonderful world of Nirvana, Meg clung to John as if he were the only salvation from a fall into oblivion. Even just holding him as tightly as she could didn’t seem to be quite enough. If it were possible to rip the skin off their chests and meld their two bodies together, she would have done so in a heartbeat. His arms around her, holding her, protecting her, making her his woman, were the ultimate indication to her that love really wasn’t just a fairy tale! He felt the stinging heat of her tears as they landed on his chest, finally understanding just what the true nature of the gift they’d shared was all about. In his heart, he knew that he’d never let her go, even ten million years from now!
“John, I’ve waited for this day, my whole life! To be a complete woman, loved, cherished, taken, and desired. There isn’t another man on this planet that could have been more perfect to give myself to. Thank you,” Meg whispered in John’s ear, then added, “I . . . I love you!”
Those three words had never been uttered by Mary Ellen Glasser in her life, but summed up how she felt exactly. They hit John’s consciousness with the impact of an asteroid slamming into a planet. While the shock waves of its deliverance was completely unexpected, there was a part of his core that knew it to be true. And, to his utter amazement, it was becoming reciprocal. There were no words that might convey his reaction, but his need to kiss her deeply, fully, passionately would just have to do.
For the next two weeks, the two of them revelled in the bliss of each other’s company, laughing and running in the early fall air like little children, doting on each other, and making love every chance they could. For both John and Meg, it was the happiest time that either could remember. For John, his cursed amnesia became a blessing. His whole world started and ended with Meg, and that was all he ever wanted.
The unmistakable crunch of tires rolling over the gravel of the drive invaded their little paradise eventually, heralding the arrival of a fancy limousine that seemed to go on forever. As it stopped in the open area at one corner of the lakeside cottage, John had an ominous feeling sweep through his mind. The chauffeur ran to the right rear door of the vehicle, opening it for the convenience of its lone occupant. Emerging like a Hollywood movie star was a woman about John’s age. She was dressed to the hilt, exhibiting a body that would wake a dead man. Her facial features were soft, though a little cold. She had breasts that probably announced her arrival twenty minutes before the rest of her, a slim waist that almost wasn’t there, and hips that swelled wide enough to make up the difference. Her butt was well-rounded, firm, and with a curve that could define the Arches of Heaven!
John couldn’t have identified her if his life depended on it. His first instinct was to tell her to go away and leave him alone. How dare she inject herself in the world that he and Meg had built for themselves!
“Dave? Is that you? God, I’ve been looking for you for months! Why the hell haven’t you called me?” she almost screamed at him. John slowly did a 360-degree pivot, hoping like hell that she was talking to somebody besides him. But the only other person in his line of vision was Meg, and she sure as hell didn’t look like a “Dave” to him.
“I’m sorry, lady, but you must have me confused with someone else,” he replied in an acidic tone, “Am I supposed to know you, or something?”
“Jesus, I should fucking well hope so! It’s me, Linda! Remember, Linda Keelson? Your wife? Now get your skinny little ass in the fucking car, and let’s go home, before I lose my temper!”
Wife? What wife? He had a wife? And who the fuck was this Dave Keelson she had called him? His name was John. Well, maybe and maybe not, but it was the only name he knew any more, and the only one he identified with. All this information was more than John could take in.
“Dave, huh? Is that my name? I sure as hell don’t recall being called that name. And if I’m supposed to be your husband . . . “. Whatever he was going to say evaporated from his mind instantly. “Listen, you just get back in your fancy car and wait. I’m going inside for a minute, then I’ll be back.”
“Like hell you are! I’m your fucking wife, and when I say get in the fucking car, I mean now! As in, right fucking now! Move it, Mister!” Her screaming indicated that she was on the verge of hysteria. It indicated some other traits too, but John couldn’t put labels on any of them. His temper had been in check as best as he could keep it, but that last tirade made him lose it.
“God damn it! I don’t care if you’re the fucking Queen of fucking Shebat! You yell at me one more time and I’ll jam my fucking hand down your fucking throat so fucking far my fingers will stick out your fucking cunt! You got that?”
Jesus! If she really was his wife, how the hell had he put up with her bullshit? Shit, she’d been here maybe three minutes, and he already had a burning desire to shorten her lifespan to mere seconds.
Meg heard all the racket and had run out to the porch to investigate. Without uttering a word, she watched as her little world crashed from the pinnacles of heaven into the darkest depths of despair. His wife? John had a wife? The revelation felt like somebody had whipped the ground from beneath her. And now this bitch was taking away her John, the only man she’d ever truly loved? The only man she wanted, for the rest of time? She turned and walked back into the house, the pain and hurt welling up inside her until it burst forth in a combination of tears, sobs, wails, and a burning desire to separate every limb off some living creature until it felt half the pain and agony she did.
John (he refused to acknowledge the name “Dave”) turned to follow Meg into the house. If that “cow” outside opened her mouth one more time, she’d be leaving in a fucking hearse! Right now, he had to find Mary Ellen, talk to her, hold her, protect her. God, he’d sell his soul to the Devil for the chance to make love to her right now, even if it was for their last time. He ran up the five stairs to the veranda, into the front room, and called her with a voice of near panic. Although she never answered his pleas, he could hear those all-too-familiar sobs coming from their bedroom, and dashed down the hall to be with her.
“Meg? Mary Ellen! Oh God, Baby! I didn’t know . . . “
Words. Nothing more than empty words! And not one of them worth a pinch of powdered ‘coon shit, either! John was torn between the love they shared and the duty he might have to that bitch waiting outside. Well fuck her! Fuck that meddling bitch and her screaming demands on him! But John knew that he had to go with her. Didn’t have a clue why, but knew he still had to.
“Meg, listen, I don’t know that woman from a hole in the ground, but I do have to go with her for now. We both know that, deep inside us. If nothing else, she seems to know who I am, or maybe who I was. But I promise you, no matter what it takes, I’m coming back here, and you’d better be here when I do. Because, even though I’ve never said it before, I love you!”
There were no words that Mary Ellen could find to say. No one could possibly feel as shitty as she did right now. Every negative concept she knew of flooded through her, making her feel betrayed, abandoned, lost in a whirlpool of crushing despair, and totally . . . alone!
“Meg, I’ll be back, just as soon as I can! Please? Wait for me? I’m beginning to see that I want you and need you more than anything in this whole fucking world!” and John sealed that promise with the most precious gift he could think of.
He kissed her urgently and passionately. Mary Ellen responded half-heartedly, but she couldn’t refuse him, not for love nor money. She just sat there and let her heart shatter into a million pieces, knowing that when John walked out that fucking damned door . . . .
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