Sunday, April 10, 2005

In the Flesh

I woke the kids and prepared their lunches as they dressed for school.

I lamented the mess of stuffed animals and Easter grass that littered a bedroom floor. “Please, everything is much easier if we all help to keep the apartment clean,” I chided.

Jason and Collie picked up a few toys with desultory obedience; the main culprit, Lillie, watched as she sucked her thumb, still struggling to wake herself.

We took a cab to school. It was a Parents’ Day, when parents are encouraged to spend the first period reading along with their children in class.

Lillie showed me a book about whales that she had written and illustrated. Afterwards, I kissed her goodbye and went to Collie’s classroom, where we read selections from the Velveteen Rabbit. I kissed him goodbye, and set out to walk home.

The sky was grey, and the skyline surrounding Central Park was sheathed in fog.

I swept and tidied the living room. I made my bed, washed dishes, and showered. I made coffee and answered some email.

She knocked.

I opened the door. It was really her face. “Fucking a.”

“Fucking a,” she beamed.

Madeline. In the flesh.

I grabbed the lapel of her raincoat and pulled her into my kiss. I kissed her as I kicked her suitcase inside. I kissed her as I closed and locked the door.

I kissed her, pulling and tugging her raincoat, spinning with her, down the hallway and into my bedroom. I kissed her as she fell back onto my bed, as I fell on top of her.

The kisses were long and passionate, punctuated with short, quick ones when we caught our breath. My hands roamed her body, feeling only the textures of her raincoat. I finally found flesh at her thigh. I needed more flesh.

I sat up and looked at her. Her head was over the edge of my bed. Her hair was ginger, short in back, long in front. Her eyes steel gray. She had freckles, even on her lips, parted in a smile.

She was holding her chic glasses in one hand. I took the glasses and placed them on my night stand.

My need for flesh overwhelmed the moment. I lifted her skirt and found mesh panties that revealed what they covered. That did it—those panties are getting shredded . . . I controlled the impulse. I lifted her calves, still covered in cowboy boots, and removed the panties, tossing them away blindly.

My eyes were on the prize. That sweet honey pot for which I had hungered. She had groomed it for our debut—her pussy was waxed smooth but for a closely cropped landing strip at the top.

I went down on her, and savored the first orgasm we would share in person, after so many spent in longing for one another.

Her cum poured into my cupped palm. Why hadn’t she mentioned that she is a gusher?

I removed my t-shirt.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi Madeline. Thanks for coming to me.”

“Thanks for having me.”

“Oh, I am having you, all right.”

Her hands tugged at my belt. I unfastened it, and stood to drop my pants. “I think you may have time to lose the raincoat before we fuck,” I suggested. She wriggled out of her coat and tossed it onto a chair.

That was all the undressing we had time for. I was already wearing a condom, already poised between her legs. She lifted her legs back as I entered her.

She was juiced; I fucked her hard.

In our long conversations, our online dates with web cams and bourbon, she had taught me so much about how to be with her. And now I was able to put those lessons into practice.

She smiled at me from between her calves. I smiled back.

I slapped her face, hard.

She turned with the blow, then looked back at me. Her eyes gleamed.

I slapped her again. She looked back at me, ecstatic.

I fell onto her, fucking fast, our mouths opening into kisses. She came.

I pulled up. “That sweater, it’s got to go,” I said. She removed it as I thrust into her. Underneath was a black chemise.

“Jesus Christ,” I complained. “How many clothes can one person wear?”

“I had to wear something,” she apologized, tugging it over her head. “I wasn’t wearing a bra.”

No, she wasn’t. Her breasts, large and full, finally in my mouth.

We had only the skirt left. But removing that would mean pulling out of her body. I preferred the skirt to that.

Her nipples were pronounced and erect as I flicked them with my tongue. I caressed her breasts as I sucked, then grabbed them forcibly. She sighed.

I needed more flesh. I pulled out, and we lost the skirt. She was finally nude. We held each other close, feeling the electricity of touch on our bodies.

She bent over the bed, offering me her ass. I took it hungrily, fucking her deep and long, spanking her into submission.

Panting, finally, she said, okay, okay . . . we can stop.

I washed up and came back to find her reclined on the bed. I lay in her arms. Her body was bathed in sweat.

Madeline. In my bed. In the flesh.


NCTRNL said...

Finally...and I love reading both sides of the story...

Anonymous said...

I agree. To hear both sides is very interesting.

Jefferson said...

You know that old saying: a man with one clock knows the time, but a man with two clocks can not be sure?

Reading two sides of the same event brings out the subjectivity of autobiography.

I really enjoy seeing what Madeline choses to emphasize, how she organizes her thoughts . . . what stories you get, gentle reader, and those we have yet to tell.

It's fun comapring notes on the wekend with Marcus and Mitzi too. But wait, I am getting ahead of myself.

Anonymous said...

*Where* are Mitzi's comments?? glee