All copyrights held by author, no reproduction or archiving to commercial sites or for material gain, without express prior written permission from the author.
Warning: If you are offended by graphic detail, bodily fluids, do not proceed. While there is romance, it's off-the-wall, some would say, perverse.
***
She had the body of a swimmer; the only hint of softness was her small breasts. Seeing her in the thin orange fabric of a tiny bikini turned his cock to wood-and firmed his resolve to get to know her. The nipples weren't very big, but they had hardened in the cold lake water, actually pointing upward, which made Jason catch his breath.
He had often heard his college roommate mention a 'cute' sister, but he'd taken it with a grain of salt; here she was, 17, with a button nose that crinkled when she smiled; a tanned face showed off her blond hair loosely pulled back. She had the 'all American' look of Kirsten Dunce; "Nice to meet, ya. I'm Kelly," she said, "Coming to swim with us?"
Lying near one another, on towels at the edge of the lake, they talked; to his surprise, she was interesting to listen to; her father had 'exited' when she was 12; her mother was quite willing to say what this showed about men when they encounter the rocks and potholes on the road of family life. Her plans for the future, he found, were well mapped, considering her age: to go to art college after high school. He'd been thinking that any 'career' plan of hers would be pretty light-weight, in accord with the pink SUV she loved, a gift from her mother; he might have pictured her as a dental hygienist; but as they talked other things didn't fit. She liked Stephen King and had tried her hand at writing scary stories. One time, in their discussion of the college, she said,
"I can help pay my way as a figure model. Do you think, on the job, I'll have to fuck all the instructors?"
***
They were in each other's company a great deal in the next three years. She loved him deeply, and he responded in the same way. To him, she appeared to have no interest in marriage. Once, he'd referred to her as a 'life partner.' She responded "No criticism of you, honey, but how do you ever know?"
"Know what?"
"If your SO, your would-be life partner, will go the final mile with you."
"I'll be there for you." He saw that the matter wasn't settled. She repeated her favorite saying, 'Not just to talk the talk; but to walk the walk.'
*** In a few more years, Jason was finishing law school as she prepared final projects for her art diploma. She'd taken up a series of mixed media compositions as she called them, on the theme of Mother Earth; she liked to quote Zora Hurston; the earth accepts everything, pure rain water and urine, indifferently; she is never defiled.
Kelly would say, "The earth is like a woman's body, its fluids, its nooks and crevices"; she modeled them in clay and fabrics on canvas, deep brown and siennas with the cloth in gathered in folds and cracks that called to mind a number of lubricious thoughts. One time she noticed Jason looking at a new composition, still damp, she said, "Here, it looks like a pussy, don't ya think?" She could surprise him. "Here, have a look." She pulled down her pants and panties. Her pubis was close cropped, so the delicious folds were prominent; just as the fabric had been molded in the composition.
Her manner of dress changed. The pinks and mauves had disappeared from her wardrobe; purples and blacks were in her favorite items, often contrasted with the deepest and truest reds. She'd started frequenting an erotic writers' website; some of her early submissions were pretty breezy and hardly anyone read them, but she began to write her feelings and later submissions had been well received. Each story contained a note, "E-mail your comments, but don't ask to cyber or meet. I have the sexiest lover." Jason was surprised by the frequency of domination themes, but he soon found that, in real life, he was often the beneficiary. She had them try silken ropes, feathers, candles. Her body stretched out between four bedposts made his breath short and hardened his cock. Her rack, as he called it, now filled out, always made his mouth go dry; he liked to watch the nipples crinkle at the touch of the feather; her breasts would swell under the soft leather lash she had him use. The sight of her twisting under it always brought him to say, "I love you, Kelly." He could see how far she'd go with him, in giving up control.
***
They'd finally gotten an apartment together. They began entertaining and liked having friends over. Lise was her oldest friend from art school, a slender brunette Jason had no trouble getting along with; she also seemed fascinated by fertility themes and Jean Shineda Bolen. She had even formed a women's 'circle' that would dance in the full moon's light. He liked to say to her, "Will you guys be boiling up any eye of newt and toe of frog?" One day, when she came to visit, just after the full moon, he made that remark, and she said, "Close your eyes, I've got something for you."
Something dropped into his shirt pocket. "Open," she said. He felt something small, dry. "A newt for you-from the gang." After he hastily dropped it, they all laughed till their bellies hurt.
Her passion for drama got her jobs as Entertainment Director at several of the fraternities and sororities of the State College in the city. Pledges couldn't be painfully hazed any more, but Kelly gave Jason hints-about "productions" Lise arranged for the newbies. She had a commanding presence which-he guessed-would make her a fine director of any erotic hijinx. Kelly often visited her apartment, but Jason didn't ask what they did there; maybe sex, since Lise often would graze her fingers over Kelly's arm or some other part; the thought turned him on so he didn't worry; and Kelly never seemed less devoted or receptive on the home front.
Living with Kelly, he became very open, and didn't try to hide anything, including the movie a friend had recommended, "Bukkake Supreme." When she saw the video case, she asked about it, and they ended up watching together. In one scene a slender Japanese young woman knelt, smiling at first, and received the ejaculations of a couple dozen guys, some pretty scruffy, some fat, some bare bones but well hung. The young woman's look became more intent as her face became coated in glistening slime, for a good many of the guys missed her open mouth. Jason's cock hardened; Kelly noticed, but she seemed quite engrossed, too: "It sure pushes the boundaries"; a concept that had appealed to her from her art schooling. She reached for his cock as the scene finished; thirty guys had come; the model opened her mouth wide and showed a pool of semen she'd managed not to swallow. Jason felt stomach go queasy as she gulped, smiled, and with her fingers began scraping the cum off her face; she then licked the goo from her fingers, seeming to enjoy the taste; he was stone hard and ready to jump Kelly, but couldn't help exclaiming, "Look at that slut."
Kelly withdrew her hand immediately, frowned a little. "Slut?"
"She's enjoying that cum."
"She received it all, but she kept her dignity. You thought of spilling on her face too, didn't you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Then it would be your cum too. Would that be gross?"
"No, Kelly."
"I swallow every time."
"Yes. ...Honey, let's just drop the subject." He couldn't explain, but he thought her objection had to do with her views of Mother Earth.