[What you are about to read is a work of fan fiction from the movie Six Days Seven Nights (1998). There is a gap between when Angelica and Frank flirt and we think he leaves, to the next morning when we discover that he returned. I've always wondered what happened during that time. Here is my version of what occurred. Enjoy!]
Angelica lay in bed, her heart as broken as waves on rocks. Quinney was gone, his plane lost at sea during a horrible storm, and tonight marked the end of the first day of searching with no results.
Then, Frank, who's fiancΓ© was the passenger on Quinn's small 4-seater aircraft when it vanished, had rebuffed her when she broached the topic of sympathetic, healing sex. She'd made her position very clear, saying that he was feeling bad, and she was feeling bad, so even though it made her sound slutty, she wanted him to stay with her that tonight.
He was in the middle of his stammering exercise when she unfastened her short skirt and kicked it to the back hall, giving Frank a wonderful view of her black thong and wonderful ass in the process.
Instantly, Frank had agreed to stay, but then just as quickly said that he couldn't stay because he was still holding out hope that both of their loved ones would return.
Angelica rolled her eyes and thought how silly men were to pretend that they would be faithful. All men talk a lot about how they are faithful, but when a hot, willing pussy presents itself, they always give in and spray their seed inside of her. She was offering no strings feel better sex. He'd accept, even if he didn't know it yet.
Angelica unclipped her bra. Her seductions always ended the same way: token resistance, a time of hot sweaty passion in the tropical island heat and her conquest dumping his load into her, one way or the other.
But that hadn't happened tonight. When faced with her ample, large breasts, he stammered more and then left the room. This left Angelica starved for affection and heart broken and alone.
She took a shower, drank some vodka straight, and waited until her buzz had reignited before getting into bed. It was too hot to wear clothes and too hot for blankets, so she slept nude on top of the covers, head tipsy from the days drinking away of sorrows.
She reached for the bottle a few more times and was pleasantly drunk and nearing the oblivion of sleep when a soft knock at the door woke her. She was too drunk, tired, and sad to worry about modesty as she walked to the door and opened it.
There was Frank. He went to say something before he saw her body, then he froze with wide eyes.
Angelica acted on instinct, the same instinct which drives everyone to have sex after a funeral. Frank was there to comfort her and she wouldn't be alone that night after all.
She grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him into the room, kicking the door closed as Frank's kisses ran down her neck and his hands explored her body. He was eager, like most men, to take and envelope her in his passion.
She let him. She wanted this man who loved his woman, to love her during the time they had, to help heal and console and use orgasms to distract themselves from the harsh truth that they would never see their partners again.
Angelica enjoyed giving any new lovers control at the beginning. They always arrived in the bedroom with expectations, and she enjoyed satisfying them. After they got their cocks into her pussy, they normally calmed down some because the conquest was complete. It didn't matter if she sucked them first, the time to take control was after they had thrust a few times into her. Something changed in their demeanors, and they relaxed and enjoyed the pleasure.
Frank kissed down to her breasts as she unfastened the belt on his slacks. His cock was hard and as she stroked his shaft with her hand, she relished in his lips, tongue, and hot breath on her nipples.
He kissed back up to her lips, then she unbuttoned his shirt and kissed his chest as he gently pushed her back onto the bed, coming to rest on top of her. His hard cock rubbing against her pelvis and drunk, horny pussy.
So this was how he was going to do it: missionary style like a lover on a honeymoon, looking down at her flawless body ready and willing for conquest.
There was no talk of condoms or pause for thinking of any sort. He pushed his not inconsequential cock deep into her working his way deeper with each controlled thrust, until she felt the head of his dick touch the back of her pussy and nudge to the opening of the womb. Then, the fucking began. He was like a young virgin with how he fucked her, giving no regard to her pleasure or pacing himself to prolong their act.