Sefera informed her husband she needed a break from domestic life. It was past time to get back on track with her project. What she wanted to accomplish, Yadim had done. He agreed to work with Sefera at a bed and breakfast that advertised itself as an artist's retreat.
Friendship allowed each to hear the other with the best intentions. She took constructive criticism without offense. Yadim provided feedback without trying to take control.
Their first meetup ended at the four-hour mark, the agreed-upon limit for a single session in the studio.
"A drink?" Yadim said.
"Nap first," she said.
Sefera removed her work clothes. New dabs and swipes of paint had appeared on her cotton shirt. Once down to her underwear she took stock in her room's full-length mirror. Three hundred miles of riding had left the usual bruises and chafing while the sunny days had initiated the annual spring outbreak of freckles.
Productive work always settled Sefera's mind. She chose to stay in that serene place rather than deal with a tense and probably unpleasant call home. The room's easy chair offered space to curl up. She dozed off. Falling into a deeper sleep released a riot of mental images that remixed memories with imagination.
A man undressed her. At first his identity changed from moment to moment. Emotions more than images put a name to each of her partners. One for guilt, another for anxiety--and at the end of the lineup, one for lust.
Wet swim trunks left no doubt about Harr's erection. In a blink he flipped on his back. His penis filled both of Sefera's hands with two inches to spare. Though she loved sucking him according to his instructions--a hint of the submissive streak she never revealed in waking life--she hungered to take him between her legs.
Harr set the pace with a strong hand on the back of her head. Worry shook her as Harr neared orgasm. Could she swallow what he insisted she swallow? Her heart beat faster as the first drops of semen oozed onto her tongue--
Sefera awakened. Adrenalin raced around her body.
Harr, she thought.
Their first time took place in her condo. Sefera had closed the previous day. All she owned remained in boxes or leaned on walls. In the moment she retained hopes of a relationship with Harr. She hoped showing him where she lived, her property, would impress him. Inevitably, they made out on a sheet thrown across the bare mattress.
Harr invited Sefera to undress him. Unveil him was more like it. He had the body of a linebacker.
When Harr came to mind over the years, and he was a frequent visitor during vibrator time, Sefera often settled on what she considered the high point of the--well, the wild-ass, uninhibited hours-long fuck-fest that unleashed the loudest and most protracted pleasure of her life.
Harr enjoyed her in multiple ways. His oral sex mastery brought her to orgasm as he came in and around her mouth. The tremendous volume covered her lips and chin and neck.
At the end of a short rest Harr offered her the position atop his reviving cock. Sefera offered her backside to him. Harr pounded her--behind her, beside her, on top of her--until crying out left her hoarse.
The encounter went on and on. Sefera would have quit on any of her partners to that point in her life. Or since. But Harr's confident control spurred her to push beyond all limits. For the finale, Harr made a swing of his arms and lifted Sefera off the floor. She put her hands against the wall out of reflex rather than worry he might drop her. Harr's cock, soaked with her wetness while stretching her wide, entered without the least friction. When his balls pressed against Sefera's crotch she let out a long moan.
"You like a nice big shaft."
"Your shaft."
"I'm giving you my heat one more time."
"Yes."
The best fuck of her life began with thrusts that hammered her ass into the wall. Sefera watched their images in the full-length mirror across the room. Her fluttering gaze darted between his quivering buttocks and the defined muscles of his arms and upper back.
Harr's body slapped her clit at the perfect angle and with the perfect force. Sefera had agreed to standing because she imagined Harr reserved such an unusual position for favored women. Now her helplessness aroused her to an incredible degree. Yet another orgasm started to build. Whereas the first two emerged from her core, this one originated at all points of her body. Sefera, exhausted, slumped against the wall. At this moment of utter surrender, she came in unbelievable, all-consuming pleasure, with her fists pressing into his chest, sweat streaming on her face, her vagina spasming around his ejaculations. Harr seemed limitless. Jets of come reached depths no other man had ever managed.
The orgasm in Sefera's current bedroom fell light-years short of that one. But the vibrator elicited a happy moan. She relaxed in the easy chair, recalled the subsequent relationship with Harr. After a few more visits, Sefera recognized he expected her to drop her pants and everything else when he pinged her. Harr explained his physical needs required, at present, four women for sex. Sefera was inexperienced enough that his words triggered her insecurities and worldly enough to invite him to get lost.
"I will never repeat that one afternoon," she sighed, "and dear almighty God, thank you for the years of lovely flashbacks."
She met Yadim for a drink and supper. They split a gummy for dessert. Sefera agreed with his reasoning that relaxation tonight would help the work tomorrow. On the way back they looked in the window of one of the town's little tchotchke shops. A battalion of salt-and-pepper shakers occupied the center of the display. Sefera laughed at the ugliest pair: grinning tubby bakers, one female, one male. Yadim said the shakers were in Toby jug style.
"Which is?" she asked.
"A kind of ceramic pitcher popular in the UK. People collect the different ones."
"They look like those faces drawn on shrunken apples."
Yadim, already feeling the gummy, sat on the leather sofa in his room. Sefera rested her head in the curve between his waist and hip. Their aimless talk would have baffled a third, straight person. But it made enough sense to them to spark frequent laughter.
Conversation trailed away as the THC fog descended. Sefera retained a dim notion of undoing her top button.
Sefera imagined Yadim's hand--hands--reaching beneath her shirt. Losing her virginity began just that way. Snuggling and petting, until the man, or more accurately the boy-man, seemed to read her mind. Their mouths could barely find each other for their excitement. His hands fumbled with her breasts. When she removed her shirt and bra he nursed on her tits forever. The actual penetration lasted about fifteen seconds. Dealing with the blood took about fifteen minutes, most of it spent assuring the boy-man he hadn't hurt her. That night they went at it again. She showed him how to finger a woman. He lasted longer. When Sefera ordered him to pull out, she squeezed his penis between her breasts and moved up and down until he spent himself. At the time she considered it unbelievably naughty.
Sefera realized she had thumbed her nipples erect.
"You kept doing reaches and twists today," he said in a stoned voice.
"My back hurts."
"From the bike?"
"Overwork," she said. "Too many hours at the computer."
"Would massage help? After tomorrow's work?"
Sefera started to say, I'm a little too married. But for real? Their last try in the marital bed went as poorly as the rest of the Aruba trip. Married, she said to herself, but in no way too married.
"Will they sell massage oil here?" she said.
"You can always find at least eight wellness shops in little touristy towns. Any objectionable odors? You hate coconut, I remember. Lavender?
"Lavender will remind me of the candles in my bedroom," Sefera said. "Rose? Vanilla?"
She said goodnight, stumbled to her room, and went to bed without clothes for the first time in ages.
The next afternoon, Sefera tossed the work shirt across the chair and stretched out on her stomach. Rose and vanilla, Yadim announced as he warmed oil in his hands. The woman at the counter assured him it relieved stress, he said.
Yadim, by his own admission, lacked any formal knowledge of massage. But Sefera enjoyed his receptive touch. He moved from her neck to her shoulders before following the cascade of freckles over her shoulder blades and downward. She gave a grateful hum as Yadim pressed on the small of her back.
"Do you mind working on my hips?" she said.
"I don't know much about hips," he said. "I'm trying to provide competent therapy."
"If it feels nice to me, it's therapeutic. You're in charge. Be in charge."
Sefera lifted the fabric of her leggings. Yadim reached inside with both hands. When he shifted to the opposite side Sefera pushed the fabric below her behind. White lace edged her light blue underwear.
"I imagined you as a sensible panties gal," he said.
Sefera smiled. After a long hesitation, she had changed into them while he shopped for the oil.
