My Funny Valentine Ch 03

Chapter Three

The Morning After Valentine's Day

I awoke as if nothing changed during sleep. Jill's adorable raven hair head remained against my chest. However something felt different.

"It's hard," she said, looking up at me with a look of wonder and excitement.

"It does that in the morning. It's called morning wood or a piss hard on. It keeps me from pissing the bed."

She pouted cutely and continued rubbing my erection. "I hoped you dreamed of me in your naughty little mind."

"If I did, I don't remember. But reality's better anyway," I smiled, pulling her up by her butt, feeling heat and humidity between those cheeks, sliding the middle finger into slipperiness, bringing her face to mine for a kiss.

If she had morning breath I didn't notice, and she didn't seem to either as we lingered on the kiss, stoking our desires. Tongues came happily out to play. She slid on top of me. I felt my cock tip press against my finger. Another of my fingers added to the first to surround the tip and guide it in to heaven.

Only then did our lips part. She had to lower her body to let my cock penetrate her very ready pussy.

"Oh Joe," she murmured, her eyes wide. "You open me up so much. It's so intense."

Lifting her body brought a wider angle at our conjunction, about forty-five degrees, as her strong thighs held her and let her lower her pussy before lifting again. The angle also provided a view of her amazing tits dangling from her muscled torso so that the tips barely grazed my chest as she shifted. I wanted more contact with them. I had a hand still enjoying her fine ass and the slick movement of my cock sliding inwards and outwards clutched by her labia. The other hand soon busied itself fondling her tits.

"Mmm," she moaned, her nipples once again revealed as intensely sensitive. The pleasure seemed to lessen the carefulness of filling her small sex with my big sex. Seconds later I was completely embedded, again with my tip resting against her cervix. We played, muscles tightening and loosening causing pleasant sensations deep within her for both of us.

"Joe?"

"Hmm?" I responded, opening eyes I hadn't even realized I'd closed, concentrating solely on the feelings our genitalia created. Her face looked taut with emotion.

"I was raped Joe, several times," she said, quietly, without emotional nuance, but I could see her dark eyes pool. I didn't know what to say, but I must have started saying something because her petite finger pressed on my mouth. "Sshh. Let me talk. I have to do this."

Her hips began to lift and fall in a shallow and gentle fuck. She kept it up throughout, keeping me hard when what she said made me more apt to soften. Even more successfully, her Kegel muscle play rippled around me on occasion, seemingly the perfect moments when even her strokes weren't effective.

"I so wanted to be a gymnast," she continued. "I had the body for it, strong and small. I thought I had friends sharing my desire. They did, but with an obsessive competitiveness that worked against sharing. I couldn't help that I was better than them.

"They took their revenge. It was sort of a training camp. In order to create the perfection needed to compete in the Olympics, it needed to be year long.

"I shared a room with a girl. I thought she'd become my best friend even if she and I didn't have all that much in common except gymnastics of course. I hate to say it of others, but she had a dim mind, and I guess I've always been bright. She tended towards gossip, a spiteful and narrow minded habit I could never embrace, more concerned with the bigger picture I guess. But I tried being her friend and she seemed to accept me.

"Anyway, one of her favorite topics of conversations was an older boy. Of course he was ripped and gorgeous so I couldn't help agreeing about his cuteness and a desire to mate with him so to speak.

"He was a cocksure asshole which I guess attracts us girls, and it did me then. He also liked hovering around the girls, even playing at coaching us.

"After one day training he managed to meet me alone. He said he wanted to talk to me alone about a problem I had or something so I let him into my room.

"Suddenly he was on me ripping away my shorts and shirt. I was strong but he was much stronger. Soon enough he sank he was raping me. It hurt of course, tearing away my hymen, but he was actually pretty small, so I guess it could have been worse.

"Once he came, he growled at me. 'You think you're better than the rest of us.' I told him I didn't think anything of the kind. 'Bullshit,' he said. 'Scouts come and all they see is you and your prissy little body and your showoffy moves. No more of that or you get more of this. And not a word to anyone or you'll be the one tossed out, not me. You'll be labeled a whore.' And he dressed and left.

"Seconds later my roommate saw me sobbing. Instead of comforting me she called me a frigid stuck up bitch not even appreciating a good fuck by a cute stud. That got me even more freaked out.

"Next time he raped me, I came into the room with him fucking my roommate. I thought he was raping her too. Turns out I was wrong. When I tried throwing him off her, he did get off her mid fuck, his puny cock glistening with her obvious excited lubricant, and I found myself once more on my back getting raped, this time with my roommate helping. They even had me turn around...like I am now with you, and as if I was the one in control my roommate lifted me and dropped me onto his cock. It chafed until I fucking lubricated, and then it only hurt my heart.

"I know I should have just quit, but my foolish young heart wanted to be a competitive gymnast and my mom really wanted it too, so I stayed. And got raped some more. I did learn to masturbate then, to at least not have it hurt so much.

"When the training finally ended, it seemed like forever, I told my mom I wanted private training. I think she could tell how distraught I was, and she agreed. Our family's fairly well off, but it was a burden.

"Anyway, I grew these," she smirked, sadness still evident, grabbing her breasts. "So dreams of Olympic championships faded along with dreams of becoming a prima ballerina. For some reason I wanted to be both. And I disappeared into books.

"It didn't end there, though. I did well in high school, taking classes at the nearby university when only in my junior year. There I found another rapist. Not physical, but mental. I think if it had been physical, that is if I had seduced him or something, he might never have gotten in my face. I think his anger came from his fear of succumbing to his lust for young flesh.

"It was a pretty basic Lit class, but the asshole was demanding. We read the basics of mostly American early twentieth century novelists like Hemingway, Dos Passos, Fitzgerald and the like, but he promised extra credit if we tackled either Joyce or Becket. So of course I tried Ulysses. Big mistake.

"The novel confused me. I met with him about it. I really had incredible respect for him. He was a great teacher, witty and insightful and able to pull insights out of a reluctant class of freshmen. But for some reason he seemed to be angrier everytime we met. Finally, when I finished the essay, actually not as bad as I thought it would be, he had me meet him in his office. And he fucking yelled at me right in my face. 'How could a little piece of shit girl think she has anything to say about Joyce? What do you think you're even doing in my class? You're only good for reading trash magazines and watching soap operas and spouting out babies! Get the fuck out of here you fucking cunt!'

"It literally blew my mind. Two very different things happened. One, ironically, I became even more determined to excel at writing essays or anything else having to do with academics just to show the asshole I guess. The other though was completely the opposite. With the physical rapes before and the mental rape, it seemed like any time I showed myself to others with any semblance of confidence or ability, I was ripped apart. I could barely talk to strangers, especially males.

"I'm not done," she said when she saw me about to speak. Instead of silencing me with a finger, she silenced me with a sweet kiss, which I found much better. "It's the dreams, both sleeping and waking. It's always those faces right in my face, those rapists, the gymnast and the professor. They both had that in common, being right in my face with their ugliness. Even the roommate makes an appearance. When I mean awake, it's like they flash inside my eyes when I'm in a social situation, beating me down, making me shy away.

"But it never happened with you," she told me, her voice tightening as her hips started working harder, lifting and falling. "I thought it might, but it never did." She brought my hand back to her breast and squeezed my fingers to show she wanted her nipples more abused than I had thought. I did as commanded and she moaned. I moved my hand off her ass after a caress of her slick and widened labia to bring it between our bodies, attaching fingers to her clit and rubbing.

"Mmm, yes," she moaned, speeding up even more and lifting higher and dropping swifter. "It never happened with you," she repeated unsteadily. "Not during that first conversation that ended up making me wet. Not when my slutty roommate introduced me to you even with her arms around you, possessing you. Never at my apartment. Never. Oh fuck. But I wanted to be careful. That's why I couldn't face you for our first fuck. I had to know if I could lose myself in it. No ugly faces. No pain. At least not much." She giggled tightly and cutely. "You are fucking big. It was fucking incredible. You are fucking incredible. And then I faced you I after I came, and all I saw is you, you're adorable lovable face. I knew I could enjoy this. I knew I could..."

"Could what?" I asked.

"Could love you."

I smiled. "I love you too, sweetheart."

"Good," she moaned, her smile tight but large. "Then turn me over and fuck the shit out of me."

"Are you sure?"

"I won't be until you do."

"Then hold on," I smiled, pulling her down hard, pubic bone pressing against pubic bone, cock tip pressing against cervix, ending her ride.

"Oh fuck," she moaned, obviously not minding the cervical pressure. In fact the opposite. "Hold me a second," she moaned, writhing and going still. I felt the ripples of her orgasm dance across my shaft, my balls getting coated by her orgasmic nectar.

"Hold on," I said again, and somehow she did while still awash in her abating orgasm.

Though densely packed, she was still a petite woman, and I had no problem turning us over and recommencing the fuck. I did so with powerful thrusts if not with a lot of speed.

I watched her carefully. I watched her eyes open. They opened wide. And then she smiled. My heart danced a jig. "Faster," she groaned.

I pounded the shit out of her. And she responded by lifting into my thrusts creating even greater meetings of loins. We panted our pleasure. We moaned and groaned and growled with it. She said "fuck" quite a lot, and "Oh Joe," for climactic moments of which there were three. The last I greeted with my own, "fuck," as I pressed deep and writhed against her, my torso undulating with every explosive release of sperm and semen into her convulsing depths.

Only then did she release her nipples which she had been squeezing with abandon. Only then did our eyes close. Only then did our lips meet for a long and hot and sloppy kiss.

"I love you, Joe," she whispered into my ear afterwards as we clutched together in an intense hug.

"I love you Jill," I whispered right back directly into her diminutive ear.

We ended up taking another bath, less long and massaging but just as sensual. After drying she put on one of my white shirts I wear for work. The tails reached low on her thighs. She looked so sexy in it I was tempted to restart the loving. All I got was a kiss and a mutual squeeze of butts. "Sore," she told me.

"I could kiss it and make it better."

She pulled me down for a kiss. "Maybe later," she said with a giggle.

"Maybe?"

"Okay, definitely, Naughty Boy."

"But I'm your naughty boy."

"And I'm your sweetheart."

"Definitely." We kissed again.

...to be continued...