III. Kind of Blue
Behind closed curtains, the rain pattered against the window. A dim light shone from one small lamp on the bookcase. Scattered clothes the silent signs of previous undressing.
A sultry John Coltrane tenor-sax sounded from the speakers; “Kind of Blue” was the favourite CD. It was close to three thirty in the morning.
And Jason’s room was permeated with the scent of sex.
Her back arched in a sharp reflex, throwing her bouncing breasts forward. Clenching hands sought to support the tilting of her hips. She looked down, her breathing ragged as she watched him squirm underneath her on the floor. His eyes closed, his head shaking wild, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.
The sudden grunt thrust out deep from her throat. God, he was so hard inside her.
Oozing wetness smoothened the passionate bucks with which she banged herself onto his throbbing cock. Raw, guttural sounds escaped in thoughtless response.
Her mouth hung open as she rested on her hands, squishing her hungry wetness around his frantically fucking manhood.
She felt his pace increase more, even more. His lust turned to savage. Primary growls exclaimed, enhancing the impact of every deep thrust into her quivering wetness. Her heart beat over with the intensity of his hungry bucking. His cock screwed on the verge of pain, but she just didn’t care. Her hips pushed down into his thrusts, had to push down. Gasping for air, she plunged onto his rock hard swollen manhood, her body seeking his stallion hunger.
She felt her sensitive breasts being grabbed, hard. Her nipples brushed against the palms of his hands, hurting with pain from their tightness. A loud groan. Ellen pushed into his grabbing, so uninhibited that her moulded tits made her feel sluttish. She trembled with arousal, trying to catch her breath, with every slamming penetration, with every knead into her glowing tits cutting it off again.
Deep inside her, the throbbing swelling became even harder. Ellen gyrated her hips, pressing her clit against his thrusting pubic bone. His hotness was heavenly unbearable. Horniness mounted into stinging urges to lust for each other.
- “Hmm, I can smell your cunt, Ellen. You smell so hot.”
She squirmed hard from his shameless words.
- “Ugh..., deeper, Jason.”
A sudden thrust. A gasp. Her hips bucking down.
- “Argh. Fuck, Miss Sanders. You drive me wild.”
She grunted, impaling herself with primary hunger.
- “Ugh…what a great idea Jason, to offer me that ride…”
She shivered at her own innuendo, images from the days before returning. The first look into his eyes. Her sitting in his car. How he looked at her when she proposed a date. Dinner together yesterday. Her seduction.
In the background, “So What” swung into its undulating beat by Jimmy Cobb drums as her thoughts continued…
Long kissing on the couch, that gloriously intense first fuck. Short, but so damn hot. The whole night that followed, into the day. The look in their eyes when he had to leave for his Saturday job, the promise they had made to see each other again tonight. Tonight. With that same hunger erupting again. His invitation to dance. Slowly swaying surrender. Hands touching without any shame. And it felt so natural.
Their mutual lack of inhibition was remarkable for two people who had met a mere two days ago. Ellen had never before stripped off her pants in front of a guy she just met. Yet, she had done just that yesterday, guided by a daring fantasy she had once written down. In a way, having run into Jason still felt like a fantasy, a trance. She had always been a brave girl, coping so well with her fate, making others proud of her. But there had always been something missing in her life. Rationally, she knew how to handle anyone who would turn her down. But deep inside her, there was a craving for real acceptance by someone she liked. A silent urge to share the talents of her person, the erotic richness of her fantasies. She wrote them down, and posted them on web sites. And that was fun, alright. But it was not the real thing either, and she knew it. And then suddenly, a guy fetching coffee on a Thursday afternoon had changed that. Remarkably so.
