Death by Fucing

This is a continuation of the “Death by Fucking” stories. Due to the nature of the narrative, it is recommended that you have read at least one of those stories in order to be ‘up to speed’ on the situations existing at the outset of this story.

Part 1 His Story:

We were lying in bed in Deirdre’s hotel room recovering from a bout of mind-blowing liberating sex, at least from my point of view. I had wanted to make slow sensuous love to this woman who had suddenly become the focus of my life. Instead I lost my head and it turned into a long hard monkey fuck.

It was a mistake. I don’t know what happened. One minute I was this guy trying desperately to impress the woman of his dreams. The next minute I was primal man staking his claim on Eve in the Garden of Eden.

Is it right to want someone that much? Is it healthy? What have I gotten myself into? Christ, the woman is going to be gone in two weeks never to be seen again.

I told her this afternoon when I accepted her invitation to try to work off the sexual tension that had developed between us that I would probably hate myself in the morning. I wasn’t kidding.

I’m starting to hate myself right now, for two reasons. First I may have pissed away the opportunity of a lifetime by losing control during our first (and maybe only) lovemaking session. Second, I’ve fallen in love. I’ve got feelings for Deirdre that run deeper than I thought myself capable of. It’s a hopeless consuming passion. I’m addicted to her like the worst crack junky to his dope. And I’m lying here knowing she will be gone in two weeks. I’m a complete idiot.

Deirdre had been laughing at some little play on words that she somehow had the presence of mind to make through this emotional morass I find myself in. Let’s be honest, maybe she isn’t in the same emotional morass.

I had apologized for fucking her brains out. When I asked her what she was thinking, she said “Why, Andrew, I’m not thinking anything. I have no brains.”

And then she laughed. It was that warm infectious little laugh that I had grown to adore. It infected me and I laughed too, defusing my anxiety a little.

Suddenly she stopped laughing and came into my arms. Our bodies touched for the first time. Well it seemed like the first time. The last time I was in such a state of unbridled lust that I hardly noticed her body. Now she molded herself to me and our lips met.

Deirdre is soft, indescribably soft. Her skin is like nothing I’ve ever touched before. It’s so soft it’s barely a solid. My hands roamed her back as we held each other. Her kiss was one that poets try to describe with no success. The softness of those lips, the electricity in her touch, the warmth, the gentleness of her embrace were all sucking me down into a permanent abyss of unquenchable romantic love. It was like part of me was outside myself, watching me drowning in Deirdre.

Have you ever said to yourself, “This is going to kill me” and went right ahead and did it anyway? That was me with Deirdre. This relationship was going nowhere. Deirdre doesn’t do relationships. My life was going to end in two weeks. This is going to kill me.

But she was with me now. I would have to make it feel like eternity.

Our kiss seemed to last an eternity. Neither of us wanted it to end, maybe. I know I didn’t. When she finally pulled away, her eyes were shining. She has this thing with her eyes. There is some kind of internal switch thing that she seems to be able to turn on and off. When the switch was on there was a light in her eyes that was mesmerizing, beautiful, dazzling. I thought it only happened when she smiled.

She said, “Thank you, Andrew. That was the most beautiful thing that’s every happened to me.”

I was still apprehensive. “I wasn’t too rough with you?”

She smiled a little, a lovely warm smile. “No, you weren’t too rough. You were a bit overwhelming. But sometimes it’s wonderful to be overwhelmed.”

“I promise that if we do it again, I’ll take my time and be gentle. Something came over me just now. I wasn’t myself.”

She laughed. Her laugh was rich and melodious. Her eyes, her entire face, seemed to be laughing. “If that wasn’t you, I want to meet that other guy who just about killed me.”

Deirdre was a playful, delightful lover. Humor is such an integral part of her person, and it seemed to come out even more in the bedroom. She has a sweet relaxed way of dealing with everything.

We held each other and talked. I wanted to know about her. All I knew were these basic facts: she grew up in the South; went to Duke; worked for a big consulting firm; was beautiful; was the person I’ve been waiting for forever. Maybe she didn’t feel like the person I’ve been waiting for forever.

My arms were full of Deirdre as she told me a little of her life. I was right where I wanted to be, forever.

“I’m from Savannah. Well, from a town outside of Savannah. Daddy was a doctor. Momma was a housewife. I’ve got a sister named Donna, but we call her Donnie.”

I was pleased. “You mean there is another woman who has your bloodlines? Wow. Is she at all like you?”

“Yes, we are very much alike. We’re about as close as sisters can be. I talk to her all of the time, and we tell each other everything.”

I made the obligatory leering grin and said, “Everything?”

She laughed again. Deirdre didn’t giggle. She had none of the nervous mannerisms I was used to in the young girls I had dated. If she thought something was funny, she laughed. If she was nervous, she admitted it. She never giggled.

“Yes, everything. She is going to love this story.”

I was a little flip with her. “Oh, you tell her about all your love affairs, huh?”

She took the bait. Her eyes flared with a different kind of spark, and I knew that this was as close to angry that I’d ever seen Deirdre.

“I don’t do relationships, Andrew. And I don’t have casual affairs. I never tell Donnie about my love life because I have no love life. I don’t have time for a love life.”

She seemed to calm down a bit as this came out. I held her even tighter and I could feel her tenseness relax.

“I’m sorry, Deirdre. Maybe I’m a little vulnerable right now. This thing we are doing here, I know you don’t do relationships, so it can’t be a relationship. But it feels like a relationship to me.”

I heard her whisper, “Dee Dee”.

“Dee Dee?” I questioned.

“Yes the people closest to me call me Dee Dee.”

“Who calls you Dee Dee?”

“Momma, Daddy and Donnie are about it. I don’t have that many people I’m close to.” Deirdre was snuggling her head into my shoulder, kind of like a kitten rubbing against your leg. It felt wonderful.

I said, “You wouldn’t mind if I called you Dee Dee?”

“I’d like it.” Deirdre wasn’t looking at me. Her face was buried in my shoulder.

I brought my hand to her chin and lifted her face next to mine. “Thank you, Dee Dee”, I said, and then I kissed her, a soft gentle kiss of gratitude. I know it sounds ridiculous. She merely let me call her by her nickname, no big thing. But I felt like some threshold had been crossed. This private woman with no friends was asking me to be her friend. I wanted more, but every journey starts with the first step.

I wasn’t horny. Jeez, I’d just had the greatest sexual experience of my life a few minutes ago. How could I be horny? But my mood was romantic. I took her face in my hands and planted a soft kiss on each cheek. Then I kissed her lips. It was one of those languid, no hurry kisses; the kind that seem to reach down to your heart and set it on fire.

I slid my lips down her throat and began kissing her neck. God, it was a beautiful neck. I felt myself sucking on that neck, trying to make it mine. I finally came to my senses and let up the pressure, seconds before placing a serious hickey on the neck of a thirty-five year old business woman.

She didn’t seem to mind. Her eyes were closed and a soft lazy smile was on her lovely face. I worked my way down her chest. I was finally at her breasts. They were small and perfect. It was if she had been the model for the Champaign glass rather than Marie Antoinette. They were round, soft, white, and perfectly symmetrical, with small dark, perfectly suckable nipples. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

I devoured those breasts. I made gentle love to those perfect nipples, softly licking them, gently biting them, then forcefully sucking them. By this time our previous encounter was a forgotten memory and my dick was as hard as a rock. But Dee Dee just lay there happily, allowing me to slowly worship her body. When I nibbled on her nipple I felt her body shudder and her chest pushed its way deeper into my mouth.

I finally was able to pull myself away from her gorgeous tits and continued to kiss my way down her body. I reached her belly button. She has an ‘inny’. Every thing about Deirdre is provocative to me. Her belly button was absolutely sensual.

There’s this theory I read about. It’s a good theory and I kind of subscribe to it. Here’s the theory: All primate males are ass men. When stated succinctly like that, I don’t suppose it’s much of a theory. But what it means is this: the females in primate species generally advertise their sexual availability by having an inflamed ass. Primate males are always aware of the state of a female’s ass, because he wants to fuck her whenever she is willing. Now an exception to the rule is Homo sapiens. Something happened during the course of evolution, something related to pair bonding maybe. But human females became sexually receptive year round. How did the human female evolve to advertise the fact that she is ALWAYS sexually available? She did it by evolving pseudo-asses all over her body. Look at the softness, the curve of a woman’s shoulder; the roundness, the cleavage of a woman’s tits. The knees, when bent, legs held together look like a small ass. All primate males are ass men, human males are no exception.

This brings me back to Deirdre’s belly button, which to me looked like it was practically a second pussy. I attacked that pseudo-pussy with my tongue, practically fucking it. As I kissed my way down Dee Dee’s stomach, my hands had been fondling those lovely breasts, gently pinching those sexy nipples. Then I slid them down and beneath her legs and started squeezing her round soft ass. My body had slipped down between her legs. My mouth started working its way down from her belly button.

Dee Dee’s eyes finally opened. She gazed on me with a look of apprehension. “Wait, Andrew. I’m not sure you should go there.”

My body was already between her legs. I brought my arms under her legs so that they were on my shoulders. I looked up to her with as innocent an expression as I could muster, given the circumstances.

“Go where?” I asked.

“You know perfectly well where. Andrew, we just made love!”

“So? What’s your point?” I can be oblique as the next guy when I want to be. In the meantime I had allowed my fingers to softly crawl across her inner-thigh. I was circling her sex without actually touching it. Dee Dee seemed to shift her hips, almost as if her pussy were seeking my fingers.

Her eyes closed in passion. She grimaced, as if in pain. Then her eyes opened again.

“Andrew, no one’s ever gone there before.” She was looking at me solemnly.

I couldn’t help but grin. “So in a way you’re a virgin, at least in that”, I said.

“And in a lot of other ways that I intend to remain a virgin at,” she said. She was smiling now and I could tell her objections about the direction my mouth was going were no longer worrying her. Deirdre was playful in bed. The passion was fabulous, but between the heights of passion, Dee Dee was having fun.

I licked her thighs. When my tongue touched that soft, soft skin, Deirdre shuddered. My tongue slowly worked its way toward Deirdre’s center.

I blew softly on her lips. They were wet, red and swollen. My tongue reached out and traced a path along Dee Dee’s pussy lips.

I was suddenly aware of her eyes on me. She was watching intently as I licked her lips. I lifted her hips a little more with my shoulders. Now I could work on her pussy with my mouth and look at her face at the same time. Our eyes locked in a look of passion, as my mouth took hold of one of her lips and I licked it, sucked on it, softly nibbled on it.

She was moaning now. Her hips were swaying back and forth, round and round. It was as if she were working her pussy on my mouth. My tongue slid deeply into her and a cry escaped her lips. I replaced my tongue with a finger. I was exploring the walls of her pussy with my finger while my mouth sucked her lips, and then my tongue worked around the edges of her clit. I wanted her high, and I wanted her to stay there.

She was watching me with passion-glazed eyes, her hips moving to meet the rhythm of my fingers. I tasted her sweetness inter-mingled with the musky taste of my own cum.

Her hip movements became more frenzied, her eyes closed, her head moving side to side. She was on the verge of a powerful orgasm; too soon, as far as I was concerned. I slowed my assault on her pussy, bringing the fast boil back to a simmer; a pretty damn fast simmer, I’ll admit, but at least she wasn’t in danger of boiling over.

Her eyes were open again, and this time that light was on. She was looking at me with her mouth open, an astonished smile on her face. She was gasping from her near-orgasm experience, but quickly settled back into the slightly slower rhythm I set for her.

I brought her to a boil again, again only to back off. Again and again I did it. Each time her level of arousal seemed to increase. Her face in the throes of passion is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. By now her hands were on my head, pulling me into her. Her knees were pulled up to her chest; her pussy was wide open, welcoming and demanding.

God, I loved her. I sucked her clit between my lips, licking it with the flat of my tongue. I inserted a second finger into her pussy and worked her G spot. I heard her screaming.

Her whole body arched off of the bed. She was still screaming, but no sound was coming out. I felt her pussy clenching tightly around my fingers, her thighs clamping around my ears, her hands pulling my head to her middle.

I kept up the pressure, forcing her orgasm to higher and higher levels. Her arms were suddenly fluttering in the air, her eyes rolled back in her head. Finally she went completely limp, no longer able to actively participate in her own seduction. I kept gently eating her pussy, avoiding her clitoris. Her eyes were barely open, but she continued to watch the assault on her pussy. Before long I could feel her starting to respond again. The woman was deep in latent sexuality.

She reached out to me, beckoning me upwards. I took her hand and worked my way up her body. Our lips met, even though my face was totally covered in her erotic juices. As we kissed my cock slipped into her once again.

I began a slow steady in and out movement. My hips rotated a little as I moved, forcing my cock to slide around as well as back and forth. The feeling was exquisite. Her soft warm inner walls seemed to massage my dick.

We did that for a long time, gazing into each other’s eyes as I stroked in and out, round and round. I just had so much love for this woman. We were bonding in the way established by the australopithecines. It was as old as man himself, older than our species, the way Dee Dee and I made that intimate bond that belongs to every true couple. God, I hope she felt it too.

And then my passion came upon me. I started stroking in earnest, building up power, my lust overwhelming my love. I was slamming into her, eliciting a grunt from her with every stroke. Her legs wrapped around my hips as she gave herself totally to me. Harder and harder, higher and higher we climbed till there was nothing but the act of two people trying to achieve oneness through the intimate contact of their sex. And then oneness arrived. My dick seized, then sprayed shot upon shot of semen into her welcoming pussy. Her arms were around my neck, squeezing for all they were worth. She was deliriously babbling when her whole body tensed and a loud sharp scream signaled her orgasm.

We held each other for minutes afterwards. Deirdre’s eyes were closed as I kissed her neck, her cheeks, her eyelids and finally her lips. At last her eyes opened and the sides of her mouth curled up into an exhausted smile.

I thought I heard her whisper, “Death by fucking.”

Part 2 Her Story:

I’ve done it. I’ve opened myself up to a man for the first time in many years, maybe for the first time in my life. I’ve had sex in the past, not often perhaps, but with several partners. I’m not an innocent young thing.

But that’s what I feel like. I feel like a virgin at the ball. I feel totally susceptible and yet totally accessible. What does that even mean? I’m vulnerable; very, very vulnerable. This could kill me. Can I take this kind of risk with this beautiful young man? I trust him. He’s good; deep down he’s good. But are we experiencing overpowering lust, or is there more to it? Is the lust based upon real values, true attraction? How can I know?

I’ve got to talk to Donnie. Maybe she can help clarify my emotions. I’ve got to get Donnie up here. She’ll know what to do, how to react. I don’t make any major decisions without my sister. I know that seems odd, but we are close; closer than any two sisters I’ve ever met. We are like two peas in a pod. When she meets Andrew perhaps she will be able to tell where physical attraction ends and emotional attraction begins. I’m afraid.

Andrew made love to me. I don’t swear very often. Momma and Daddy would die if they heard some of the things I’ve said to Andrew. I don’t think I’ve used the word ‘fuck’ a dozen times in my life, and yet here I am, thinking the word ‘fuck’ because that is the only word that applies. Yes, Andrew made love to me, but first he fucked me. What he did first could hardly be called lovemaking. It was fucking, pure and simple. I’ve never been so thoroughly fucked.

I had been without a sexual partner for four years. Perhaps I had some built-up passion that had been waiting to be released. Andrew released it all. I am incapable of any more passion than Andrew provoked in me.

We had just finished that wonderful animal-like fuck (I’m sorry but there just isn’t another way to say it). I wanted to be held. Andrew came into my arms and we kissed; a romantic, sensual kiss of gratitude and promise; gratitude for what we had given each other, promise of what was to come.

We talked. I wanted to know about this sweet man who had become the focus of my existence almost overnight. He’s from Ohio. He went to Youngstown State University. I had assumed he had majored in computer science, but I was mistaken. He majored in history! He is an endless well of surprises, all positive. Every time he talks, I learn something. He knows everything!

I asked him the obvious question. “Why are you in computing when your degree is in history?”

He gave me a non-committal shrug. It’s no big deal to him. He said “I built my first computer when I was eight. You just pick things up. You’re part of the community and you share knowledge. Before I was out of high school I could have run most of the IT departments I’m familiar with. Why go to school for something you can pick up independently?”

So I asked another obvious question. “Why history? What in the world did you expect to do with history?”

“Oh it didn’t matter much which major I took. I was mostly interested in filling in my gaps in knowledge, in my understanding of the world. I took liberal arts, since the ability to think is a dying art, especially in America, where the authorities want to tell you what to think.”