This is a chapter in a fifteen-chapter novella, and each chapter is dependent on the one that precedes it. It is best to read them in order.
*****
And we hurried into the backyard, naked and oily, my hand in his.
He walked me on to the grass. The rain was less than a drizzle, but more than a mist. The air was warm. There was no breeze. The grass tickled my toes. He stopped and turned towards me, then pressed up against me. His cock felt hot against my bellybutton. He kissed me, and that familiar taste of beer and salt was diminished and sweetened by the fragrance of the oil. I thought of his tongue inside of my bumhole before, then I let it go. We kissed more passionately than we had before. We were wet, but warm, our skin was oily and glistening in the iridescent pale light from the bay window. He ran his hands over my ass, kneading it, pulling the cheeks apart, and then pressing them together. I grabbed his ass and squeezed it in a similar fashion. His muscles were firm, yet his flesh was soft and giving. He kissed my neck, my collarbone, my chest, my breast, my nipples, tasting the oil.
He bent down and I let go of his ass and he suckled at me, first one nipple, then the other. Again, my pussy swelled, and I noticed, for the first time in my life, that my bumhole also felt engorged with blood. He kissed my breastplate, my ribs, and dropped to his knees, hands still firmly gripping my buttocks. On he went – my bellybutton, my abdomen, my pubic mound. I spread my legs just enough, but he moved his lips to my thighs, his tongue to my inner thighs, then back to my mound. My hands were on his head, and I wanted to thrust his face into my pussy, but I waited.
His tongue darted about, that tongue that I was beginning to feel very fond of. Then ever so gently I felt the tip of his tongue begin its search for my clit. I turned my face to the sky and opened my eyes wide. The leaves of the trees sparkled with wetness. I could see millions of misty pinpoints of rain. Everything was wet – the leaves, the grass, the ground. The world was wet and warm and soft and seemed oily and vulnerable, like me.
His tongue found its mark. I heard myself groan. His fingertips pressed strongly into my ass. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I slid my hands between his face and my mound and I spread my pussy before his mouth, pulling up to expose my clitoris, to make it accessible. He cupped his mouth around it and suckled it, flicking it with his tongue, then pressing his tongue against me hard. He sucked my clit deep into his mouth and seemed to stroke it against the roof of his mouth. At least I think that’s what he was doing, It was a new sensation, and I liked it, and I pressed hard into his mouth, closing my eyes.
Everything seemed wet and juicy with oil. It was as if my pussy encompassed all that was around us, secreting the rain, soaking the earth, soaking us. My hips moved against his mouth. Suck harder, I thought, and he did. My clit felt huge, hot, hardened, electric. He kept kneading and spreading my sopping wet cheeks, his slippery fingertips now tugging at the cusp of my, pliant bumhole. Yes, please, yes, please, I crowed in my mind – and he did. First the finger from one hand, an inch, no more, then a finger from the other hand, pressing into me, carefully, gently. Rainwater tricked down from the small of my back and I could feel it enter me. As he pressed into my behind gently, he sucked at the front of me voraciously. His fingers slid into my asshole just past the second knuckles, teasing and gyrating, slowly, leisurely, wet, warm.
I was bending at the knees, legs a little wider, squatting ever so slightly to give him better access to all that exists between my legs. I had to let go of my pussy to keep my balance, and I grabbed his head and pressed him into me. The warmth inside me turned to heat. I felt like steam was billowing off of me. My knees were going to give way. I shuddered in pre-orgasmic delight.
His tongue lapped at my pussy, then worked its way up over my mound. No, please, no. But he was coming up. His fingers were still planted in me, lolling about in an excruciatingly wonderful way. He stood up, his mouth stopped to purse and tease my nipples. Up he came, mouth to mouth. He pulled me against him, and I reached between us and slid my rain and oil-drenched hand onto his swollen cock. My hand slipped up and down on him. The rain came down harder now, wetter yet.
“Let me inside you,” he whispered pleadingly into my ear. I wasn’t sure what he meant, what he wanted me to do, but I would do anything.
“Yes,” I said, and “yes,” again to be sure he heard me. Anything. Dare I say it?
His fingers slipped out of me. No, I thought, please no. I had to let go of him as he moved around behind me, till my back was against his chest. His hands clung to my breasts. His penis pressed against the crack of my ass, up and down and up and down he rocked on his toes. I reached behind me and I spread my cheeks for him, rocking against him, intensifying the motion. I arched my back and leaned forward. My God, what was I doing?
His hands were on my hips now. I felt him take one away. I closed my eyes tight. Up and down, his rod rubbed against my anus, and it felt warm and greasy and fantastically naughty. And then I felt the head of his cock push against my burning asshole, guided by his free hand, and I was terrified. What had I gotten myself into? It was too late, I thought. It felt too good, too, nothing like anything I could have ever imagined. I gave in to the moment and follow where it led. I pulled at my cheeks more purposefully. My flesh parted and the wetness filled the space between us, and slowly, carefully he entered me.
I had to put my hands on my knees. I steadied myself. All the way in he went, till I could feel his pubic hair against my ass. I gasped, and couldn’t regain my air. With both hands again on my hips, he pulled himself into me, deeper. He filled me. I felt faint.
Again I was scared. I didn’t want him to thrust. I clenched. He groaned. I relaxed. He sighed. Less scared, I clenched again, squeezing him as if to push him out of me. He leaned into me and groaned. I relaxed.
“Oh baby,” he cried out to me.
He reached down from my hips with both hands and pressed them against my pussy. With wet fingers, he plied it open. He pinched my clit between his thumbs, and two slippery, hot fingers, one from each hand (the same ones as before? I didn’t care) slid into my vagina. My knees were bent, and I pressed with my hands and pushed my knees out to the side, opening myself wider. I clenched and relaxed. He used his hands to press me harder against him when I clenched down. His hands relaxed when I relaxed. I clenched – he squeezed my pussy, my clit, and pushed against me. I relaxed – his hands relaxed, he pulled his fingers ever so slightly from me, and he eased the pressure pulsing inside me.
“Like this,” I cried, “just like this.”
