Fawn

Fawn had been my landlady for a little over three months. I shared a spacious three-bedroom apartment with her and Ray, a phantom presence who only hung around long enough to pick up his mail and catch up on his sleep. As head-cashier in my firm's cafeteria, Fawn was a nexus for all kinds of news--corporate and otherwise.

She had a room. I needed one. It was as simple as that.

Her femininity was incidental. I was in the initial stages of dismantling a marriage that, for all its thirteen years, had seemed much longer. I'll let it go at that. Women were nowhere to be found on my agenda.

Fawn had honey-blonde hair, an angular face and a lithe body whose most outstanding feature was a perfectly-shaped butt. She preferred her jeans snug because she knew that the fit showed to her best advantage. Her eyes were hazel and her voice's prairie lilt reflected her Kansas roots. She could clomp about like a cowhand or sashay like a coquette and, once my hat was parked under her roof, she never left any doubt that it was either her way or the highway.

The simpler the better, or so I thought.

The night it happened was a warm July night--a Friday--with crickets chirping and the smell of early evening barbecue fires fading on a gentle breeze. Our apartment commanded a panoramic view of the suburbs skirting the southern end of San Francisco Bay. I was out on the deck savoring my freedom and peace of mind. Ray was at his girlfriend's and was unlikely to return before Sunday evening. Fawn had a date with a policeman.

For all her looks and her self-assured air, Fawn had the devil's own time with men. She was too unyielding. She needed her own way. Her penchant for the company of strong, virile, definite men created a tension that left her facing the evening alone many times...like tonight.

I heard her car long before it finally sputtered to silence in the carport. She was driving fast. I had ridden with her when she was angry. The shifting of the four-speed had a definite cadence when Fawn was pissed off and I heard that cadence--a rising and falling like a small child's wail at the tail end of a crying jag--coming toward me in the dark.

"Fuck it! I'm going to my room," I said to myself.

I copped another beer from the fridge and padded back to my room. Maybe turn the radio on and read a little. I had just lay back with my book when she knocked on my door.

"Yes?"

"I wanna talk!"

Drunk.

"Be there in a second..."

"You don't wanna talk to me!"

"Sure, I do! Just give me a minute."

I heard her swipe the door with the palm of her hand.

"Fuckin' men!"

She stalked away, a blue cloud of words in her wake.

I had been in my underwear when her knock came. I re-donned my clothes, regained my composure and went into the living room to see if I could be of help.

Fawn sat with her legs crossed. A half-consumed fifth of Jack Daniels was in her hand. She was propped up by the far wall of the dining room trying to blow her hair off of her face.

"Motherfuckers," she spat.

"What happened?"

"Men!"

She tried to bring the bottle to her lips but couldn't get her mouth and hand to agree on a meeting place.

"What about men?"

"You don' do what yer s'posed to do."

I grasped the bottle as I stood over her.

"And what is that?"

"You don' do what yer s'posed to."

As I pulled on the neck of the bottle, she uncrossed her legs and put her stockinged feet flat on the floor in preparation to defend the prize. Her skirt slid slowly down her thighs and stopped in folds around her hips. A salmon-pink garter belt framed the nakedness of her bottom. Fawn's cleft was fringed with fine, golden hair. The strands on her lowest reaches were darkened by moisture. Her thighs were smooth, lean and strong.

My heart raced. The sickening drive of adrenaline coursed through my veins and froze me where I stood. I felt the once-familiar tingling rising in my loins.

"Gimme my bottle back!"

I transferred my grasp from the bottle's neck to her wrist, stooped down and, with my right hand under her armpit, levered her upright against the wall.

"Why don' men like me?"

"Don't say that. Men like you."

She flopped a free hand to tap her breast.

"Dick-smokin' sumbitch wouldn't FUCK me!"

"Maybe he wants to get to know you first..."

"Why di'n he wanna fuck me, Dave? Why?!"

She breathed heavily through her nose and let her arms sag like a rag doll's. I twisted the bottle from her grasp and turned to set it on the windowsill. She slid to the floor, her skirt around her waist again.

"Punks!"

"Who?"

"Men! Punks! 'Specially fuckin' COPS!"

I knelt in front of her.

"Time to go to bed, dear."

"Bed? What the fuck for?"

"C'mon...time to go to bed."

Fawn tossed her head back in an attempt to get her hair out of her eyes. She managed to focus them for a moment.

I got up and grabbed her under her arms.

She, in turn, gripped the waistband of my jeans and nuzzled my crotch.

"Let's get you to bed," I said in my firmest voice.

"I want your cock in my mouth!"

I had never heard a woman say such a thing so matter-of-factly. Even the women who sucked me most eagerly--who craved the growls and spasms they summoned from me as I pumped into them--either didn't say anything at all or coyly offered to "do something special" for me.

Fawn's words inflamed me instantly.

"C'mon! We've got to get you into bed."

Her hands fluttered against the front of my pants, searching for what she was now determined to have.

"Put your cock in my mouth!"

"You've had too much to drink, Fawn. Cut it out!"

My words only concentrated her efforts. She grasped the tab of my zipper, pulled it down and inserted a luscious, warm hand. Fawn moaned a soft "mmm..." as she freed my shaft from its imprisonment. I'll never forget the feeling of her mouth...

She reached around to control me with the pressure of her hand on my right buttock. Her lips were only slightly parted. She pushed me slowly--the length of my cock caressed by the twin petals of her ruby lips. The humidity in the cave of her mouth. Slickness of tongue gently undulating against the most sensitive place on my body. I felt resistance...the back of her throat. She urged me deeper.

I entwined my hands in the flax of her hair and drew myself out of her. I opened my eyes to savor the sight of my manhood poised to thrust into her sweet mouth again. She was kneeling, looking up at me now, holding my ass with both hands. Her visage glowed with bleary-eyed mastery and satisfaction.

Fawn pushed again until her lips were buried in the musky curls of my pubis. She seemed to revel in sucking me. Loud smacks and slurps reverberated in the cavernous room. My knees began to shake. I gently pushed her away from me. Belt, pants and shirt were torn away. She managed to unzip her skirt and leave it lying like a husk in the thick shag of the carpet. Bra and blouse came off as one over her head.

Her breasts were small and tipped with firm, eraser-shaped nipples. I kneeled to take one of them into my mouth. It grew as my tongue danced around it. Her perfume was strong. Fawn moaned and pressed me tighter to her bosom.

"Dave, honey. That feels so good...oh, that's right, baby! Suck it...suck me...ohhh yeah..."

I was on top of her. I could feel her wetness against my thigh. It had been too long. This was too much too soon. The motion of her hips was slow and deliberate.

"I want you in me."

"Not yet!"

"Put it in me."

"It's been too long since I've done this. You're beautiful and I want to make it last."

"Put it..."

I kissed her then. It wasn't like a "first kiss." It was a kiss like we'd been doing nothing else since May. Our tongues circled one another. I had closed my eyes when I began but now, when I opened them, I found her gaze locked into mine. The glaze that had beset them moments before was gone--replaced with wanting and anticipation. She broke our kiss and smiled at me.

She pressed my shoulder gently. I thought that my weight on her was too much but she continued pressing until I found myself rolling onto my back in the warmth of the carpet. A crown of golden hair flashed past. A glimpse of ceiling. A thigh.

The warmth of her mouth engulfed my cock again. Then, above me, that beautiful butt framing her pouting nether lips. I hitched my arms under her thighs and stretched her to me. She had almost no taste at all. There was the hint of a musky tang...salt and lemons...soap...wet skin...pheromones...

Her smell was rich and full.

I darted my tongue into the folds framing her widespread, glistening pinkness. I inserted it as far as it would go and played it against the slickness of her outer walls. Fawn ground her pussy back into my face and let a low, guttural sound uncurl from deep in her throat.

I dragged the flat of my tongue directly along her exposed clit; captured the hood with my lips and worried the button with my tongue. Somewhere in the dimmest recesses of my consciousness, I became aware of a swarm of bees taking flight in the pit of my stomach. Both Fawn and I had our legs splayed as widely apart as we could manage. She no longer needed the ministrations of my tongue. Her cunt's nasty, rhythmic rolling against my pursed lips smeared my moustache with her juices. Neither of us could keep still. We had abandoned ourselves to one another's pleasure. With a muffled, mewling scream, Fawn began to tremble. She tried gamely to continue sucking me but had to give in to the insistence of her body on release. My lips and tongue came into play again as she shivered transfixed above me. I was rhythmically sucking and releasing her button. Fawn's legs spasmed each time I assailed her molten core.

She trapped my rampant stick between my thigh and her mouth. I loved the feel of her hair against my leg. Fawn stuck out her tongue and ran it along the length of my cock. She whipped her head back and forth in time to the wracking throes of a wave of orgasms. Her licking on the underside of my glans was unbearable. My balls tightened. The swarm of bees began to swirl out of my body. It was all I could do to keep from screaming out from abject pleasure--pleasure that bordered on pain. My face was a mask; a silent scream. I could feel Fawn's mouth on me again. She was bobbing up and down working for her reward. A thin, wail creaked from my throat as I bucked and spasmed. Pulse after pulse of ropy sperm spurted into her mouth. She continued her ministrations until my storm had passed.

"You've been eating pineapple," she said.

"You can taste that?"

"I always thought cum was yummy but that was special."

With a gentle but insistent hand, I put her onto her back. We kissed again. I couldn't taste my issue or feel its slickness on her tongue. My cock had never felt harder. She reached between us to guide me into her.

I don't remember when the initial moment of insertion became my favorite aspect of sex. All I know is that I crave a woman's first reaction to being filled. Some sigh or moan. Others swear. Still others lick their lips or toss their heads. Fawn closed her beautiful hazel eyes, threw back her head and drew air through her clenched teeth. Her hips thrust forward to meet mine.

Her cunny was tight. It seemed to expand around me in welcome and to squeeze me longingly as I withdrew. I dug my knees into the carpet, thrust upward and inward and rolled my hips. She growled. I lodged myself as far within her as I could go. We kissed deeply as our sweat-slicked bodies ground one against the other.

I raised up on my hands to look into her face.

She was blushing; a blazing fiery red from liquor and from her passion. Her eyes were shut tight. She licked her lips constantly as she concentrated on matching my movements. The transport on Fawn's beautiful face was complete. I wasn't sure she even knew it was me anymore. She began to chew her tongue and breathe sporadically through her nose. I realized that I was no longer making love to her. We were fucking now; wantonly fulfilling our need there on the floor.

I slipped a hand under her and grabbed a handful of sumptuous buttock. My lips were at her neck and shoulders and breasts bestowing kisses. She was salty now.

She began to repeat , "Oh, baby! Fuck it!" first as a slow chant. As her climax neared, it became faster and faster. I remember finding a "spot"...a zone where thrusting wasn't necessary. Her vagina milked my cock as I ground the upper reaches of its length into her. My cheek was against hers now. With my eyes closed, I felt as if our thighs had melded and that we were joined by energy rather than flesh. No cock. No pussy. No gender. Two waves. Surging. Fucking.

I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder just as the first paralyzing jolt of orgasm took me. Keep going. Keep going. Do it! I tried to slide my cock out for a thrust into her but Fawn's spasming cunt held me fast. The pain in my shoulder was her nails in my flesh. We quivered against each other as though high voltage were being laid on us through a cable. I couldn't hold my voice any longer. I growled like some wild animal--with teeth bared and deeply. My entire body shuddered. Cum flowed into her furthest reaches...filled them. I felt an indescribable elation wash over me. There in the dark behind my closed eyes, there was nothing but peace. I had been connected again to the essential--the animal--in me. I was helpless--unable to control my thrusting body as the last of my sperm spilled into her.

"Yeah! Yeah!"

Fawn's words brought me up onto my hands again. She looked up at me and purred, "keep going."

I took long leisurely strokes. She licked the tips of her fingers and thrust a hand down to her marshy, matted sex. She turned her head, closed her eyes and smiled a far-away smile. I had not another molecule of cum left in me but I was still hard. Fawn was building steadily to another climax but her mind was somewhere else. I was someone else--maybe the cop from tonight. Maybe someone from TV. Maybe some man from her past.

I didn't mind. I didn't mind at all.