Chapter 10 – Catch and release

We pull into my parents’ garage on mute, the car engine shut off after getting up enough momentum to coast up the driveway and into the parking spot exactly where it had been when I had pulled out not an hour before. Has it been an hour?

I hadn’t really kept track of the time, and for a moment, I wonder whether I had not imagined the whole thing, as if I had just sat in the car and fallen asleep, dreaming that I had picked up some beautiful lost soul and taken her for a spin on the highway.

“Are you ok?”

Her voice breaks the spell and reawakens my half-slumbering member just as I pop open the door as if I had only just been letting the engine cool.

“Yeah,” I turn towards her and am swallowed whole by her baby blue eyes. I could happily fall in and drown.

She smiles, as if noticing my complete abandon, nudging me in the shoulder and turning to slip out of the car, bending as she puts on her shoes to give me the slightest glimpse of her downy lower back as it disappears into the top of her jeans, the edge of plain white undies just visible before she straightens up and steps from the car.

I fumble my way out of the car, nearly slamming the door on my own leg, before finally extricating myself and walking smack into the kitchen door. “I forgot the …” I motion dumbly at the handle and key, as if they were alien to me, before opening the door and stepping aside to let her through first, fighting the urge to smack myself on the forehead with the palm of my hand and shout, “Doh!” Not everyone likes The Simpsons.

She is already through the kitchen and in the TV room, sitting down on the couch and slipping her shoes and socks off again with a happy sigh, before massaging her feet into the thick rug.

“Wow. This is amazing. Thank you. I mean it. I thought I was going to spend the night in that shop.”

“I’m not sure the shopkeeper would have let you.”

“I know. He’s a real dick, isn’t he?”

“I dunno. I don’t know him personally. But he did seem a bit uptight. Why, do you know him?”

Again that momentary flash of the unknown before she shifts sideways and pats the chair beside her. “No. Why don’t you come take a load off? What’s on TV?”

She looks at the screen just as the heroine strips off what remains of her bikini, and straddles the pool man, the camera panning across her perfect bouncing breasts and lascivious smile, before catching his lips in a big ‘o.’

By the time the screen zeroes in on his waxed butt cheeks pushing into the hidden space between her legs, my lost bird has turned to me with a twisted grin and said, “Kind of hardcore for a first date, don’t you think?”

“Date? Um, yeah.” I go to change the channel and she stops me by taking my hand.

“Don’t worry about it. I think it’s kind of funny. You really were telling the truth. You’re just sitting around burning time, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” I’m surprised I can say that much. Her touch is like a tractor beam, drawing me in, and suddenly I am sitting down beside her on the couch, sinking into the comfortable cloth, my weight forcing her to roll against me, her right leg up against, and then propped up on, my leg. She scootches back to sit with her back to the opposite arm, her feet up in my lap, begging to be warmed up and massaged, and so I do, ignoring the fact that she must feel how rock hard I am through my pants, seeing as her feet are at different heights because one is on my thighs, and the other is being propped up by my very own organic strut.

“Does it turn you on?” She tips her head towards the silent flesh on TV, pressing down with her heel at the same time, making my crotch twitch, which in turn earns me those shy question mark corners to curve her mouth into something past innocence and right out the other side.

Suddenly she is facing me, her legs underneath her, the heat now left my lap, my crotch sprung up into full tent-mode, indefensible, un-hideable, standing proud as can be.

Her hands are on me. Her lips press against mine. Her tongue finds my lips, my teeth, my mouth, my tongue, before she licks and kisses her way down my chin, across my earlobes, to lick and nibble and nip at my earlobes until I am squirming with excitement, my hands floating inches from her body, afraid to touch, but unable to escape her gravitational pull – each additional lick or flick with her tongue against my skin drawing my hands closer, until they touch her bare arms as her teeth tweak my Adam’s apple.

I cannot remember ever being this turned on in my short life. It feels like my entire being is burning with desire for her. All I want is to be consumed by it, to consume her and have her consume me.

As if in answer to my prayer, her hand slips down my trousers, her coy glance and raised eyebrows gaining a twitching response from my renegade self – he who is now in control of my very destiny. A small voice in the back of my head shouts and screams to be heard, but is drowned out by the sheer force of her sexuality. Somehow she has gone from innocent lost lamb to ravenous wolf in the blink of an eye. And I like it. I like it a lot.

Her mouth. Oh god. Her mouth opens wide and out comes her tongue in all its glory, to dance and sing its sopping heat up and down my shaft. My hips rise from the couch into her teasing, and she pushes me gently back down, stroking me up and down even as she rests her knees beside my thighs, the weight of her holding me to the couch as she leans forward and kisses me deeply while still managing to stroke me in an insane rhythm that has me twitching and near-coming with each light slip of her wrist.

“Fuck.”

“If you’re lucky.”

I smile at her and try to kiss her back, but she pushes against my shoulders, pinning me willingly to the back of the couch, before leaning back and pulling off her shirt and bra, and flicking them on the floor.

Her breasts are perfectly smooth, white downy skin begging to be touched, breathed on, kissed. And so I do. My eyes are zeroed in on the lip of her skin as I kiss and lick her breasts, around, up and down, between. Tipping my head back and forth, working myself up into a frenzy until all that I can see are her gorgeous breasts, the pounding of my heart overtaken by the pulse of her hips into mine as I build her up into her own frenzy, her paused stroking restarting as she builds up to a crescendo of sound sensation until I feel like I am going to burst, my hands slipping down her smooth back to tease the top of her jeans, and then, I’m in, down in, my grasping fingers reaching under that teasing silk I had seen in the car, to the perfect ass beneath, and down further, to grip her cheeks and pull her grinding into me. Her hand is trapped, only able to stroke slightly, but I don’t care as I pull her ass in, kneading and feeling, sliding my fingers around until I find the parting, and work my way to her rosebud with one finger.

She squirms. Her hand moves faster. Her breathe comes harder as she presses her chest into my face and moans. I lick and suck her breasts while working first one finger, and then two, inside of her from behind, my palm pressing her thighs apart as I worm my way into her warm, dark center.

My mind is gone. All I have is the sensation of entering her. That is all that I want. To be inside of her every hole, with all of me.

I want to explore her every curve and crevasse with my tongue, my finger, my darkest desire. She is my muse, and I am her writer. Her body my paper, her every desire my dream. I want to consume her and let her subsume me. It no longer matters what is right or wrong, because this just is.

She slips off my lap to kneel in front of me and take me in her mouth, down, down, into her throat to hold it there, before coming back up, nailing me to the couch with that wide-eyed, ‘let me fuck you with my mouth,’ stare, then back down to swallow me whole. All I can think is, So this is what deepthroating is like. It’s not what I imagined. And it wasn’t.

I twitch each time she shoves her face down onto my crotch, not turned on by the sensation of being forced by her into her own narrow throat, but by the fact that she is doing it, that she is willing to do this for a man she has only just met.

Again, the warning voice sounds off in the back of my head, but I am too far gone to hear him, even if I wanted to, as she stands up and strokes my sopping, throbbing penis with one hand as she stands there in front of me, masturbating with her other hand.

“God.”

“Has nothing to do with this.”

She kneels in front of me, and presents herself to me, rear-first, as if waiting for me to enter. I can’t believe it, and have to pinch myself. Is this really happening?

The thought still echoes in my brain as she reaches back and grabs me to pull me forward into her, and I am strung out, hooked, pulled in, pushed deep, held tight, over and done. This is me, over and out, Captain. Some things we just cannot resist. And she was one of those things. This was one of those things. And even as I fold and push and pulse inside of her, pulling her towards me and moving inside of her in a rhythm that has both of us panting and sweating, turning and twisting across the old, worn, shag-rung carpet, I can still hear that voice in the back of my mind, shouting, screaming, kicking for attention, until I almost can hear it, the warning shout echoing near the front of my skull.

And that is when she pulls me down and pushes her tongue into my mouth, grinding her hips into mine as she pulls and kneads my cheeks, her nails tracing and pulling, digging and pushing, until all I can feel is her surrounding me.
The world bursts open and I fall forward, twitching, jerking, collapsing until there is nothing left of me, and all is spent. Yet still she is not done with me, holding me, then easing me off and taking me back into her mouth to lick me clean as the lucky pool man is joined by the lucky plumber in the soft porn ménage a trois hovering silently over our hard core twosome, when to my surprise I begin to get hard again. It’s a miracle. I cannot remember the last time I was able to perform again after less than 15 minutes.

Yet here we are all over again, but this time slower, until she follow-leads me upstairs to my tiny bedroom, where we explore each other over the hours until we both fall asleep, wrapped in and around one another, that small voice now drowning in the sea of endorphins and self-satisfied exhaustion that consumes me, as the bed rocks me into a deep and dreamless sleep.