Page

Notes [Last revised February 15, 2018]:

○ All characters are the product of the authors' imaginations and are over eighteen.

○ This serial has seven previous entries and we recommend reading them.

○ Some characters from our story

Thanksgivings

appear here, reading that story would give only tangential information.

○ The text includes Pinyin romanization for Chinese words and phrases used within context.

○ Thanks to Skye4Life for editing this.

© Copyright 2018 by MindsMirror. All rights reserved.

Painful throbbing in my head fills me with dreadful memories of squeezing the trigger and the nearly instantaneous agonizing heat flaring along my left side. Despair and loneliness rush into a black pit of increasing restlessness. On the edge of wakeful anxiety, I find another sensation assuaging these concerns. Physical contact draws me into a safe dreamy envelope and my cock naturally presses against a smooth warm moisture. It strains toward the unknown source of engulfing pleasure. A gentle rocking motion upon my lap alerts me to a slight weight upon my upper legs. My eyes flutter open to an angelic vision atop me.

Slowly my eyes focus on the feminine form that straddles my groin as she rhythmically rolls her pelvis. Seeing her lifts my spirits and warms my heart in an instant. I tilt my head forward slightly to watch Page's pierced clit rubbing against my straining member. Her soft undulating motions continue as her head lolls backward in enjoyment. Her breasts stand out pertly on her chest with excited nipples that beg to be caressed. The nipple ring is missing this morning and my hands instinctively grasp each firm mound gently while my thumbs lightly feather across the stiff teat of each nipple. She seems to emerge from a trance-like state as my touch alerts her to my awakening.

She leans forward, fully opens her eyes and smiles broadly at me. "I knew this would eventually rouse you."

Her long auburn locks fall around my face and her eyes lock upon mine. She turns her head slowly and our mouths join hungrily, tongues dancing together as her rhythmic body waves continue. Nestled in the lair beneath her hair, I'm in olfactory heaven. A subtle aroma of our combined secretions causes me to wonder briefly if she started by sucking me to attention this morning. Her tongue licks across my teeth and delves into my mouth, flicking in and out suggestively as her motions begin to become more deliberate.

Moving my hands to the muscular area atop her hips, I attempt to retard her movements. It never seems to last long enough and today is no exception as Page attempts to rush now that I'm awake. She slows in response to my grasp and sits back. There's a crooked grin on her face and her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

I don't understand what has brought this out of her now and ask, "What?"

"I don't relinquish control easily," she responds.

"Maybe we can share it for this?"

"Yeah, maybe," she says but shakes her head negatively from side to side and continues grinding me.

Beneath her sultry minx exterior lies a control freak. There are understandable reasons she needs to be that way. Her 'maybe' acknowledges that there's always the possibility that she'll do exactly what she wants. When she lets me take the initiative, like when I chased her to this bed after breakfast over a week ago, I know that control is a fleeting illusion. I see the naughty cherub side of her character dancing in her eyes. Her small hands glide down my mid-section and come to rest upon my hips.

Today I'm under no delusions and I prop my pillow to support my head, so I can enjoy the show. There's quite a performance this morning. She seems to delight in teasing me as my cock slides into and out of her easily. The bulb pulls nearly free of her gripping lips with each cycle. A wry grin of expectation forms occasionally when I nearly pull free. There's a light sheen forming on her skin that raises goose bumps in the cool air.

She edges backward so my cock bends down and presses more on the clitoral side of her. It also improves my view of our coupling. She's silky smooth this morning but I have no idea when she had time alone to remove the stubble. Regardless, I love seeing her long puffy clit protruding out proudly as she scoots back and forth, forcing me inside. It makes me want to have it in my mouth to pleasure her. The sight of her motion is mesmerizing. The backward movements pull the edges of her inner lips out ever so slightly. Her vaginal muscles grip me, she reverses the motion, the lips disappear as I slide inside.

Undulations begin to increase, and I sense she's nearing her peak. There's a flushing around her neck that approaches the color of her auburn hair highlights. Arousal within me makes me respond to her downward force. I love the intricate lines of her musculature that show through her midsection as she works us together. Her breathing is quickening. She adds some twisting to the mix of gyrations. The telltale signs of eminent orgasm are undeniable.

"Mmm," she says and closes her eyes.

Huffing she repeatedly forces me into her mons deeply and the rhythmic cycle changes. When it arrives, we both seem surprised at the intensity of the shuddering series of climaxes she has. My thrusting becomes less voluntary, as her breathy moans and encouragements seem to demand my response. My hands grip her waist as she bucks to aid in the depth of my penetration.

"Please, cum inside me. I want to feel it. Oh, fuck," she moans abruptly as I hammer upward against her.

I'm pounding away beneath her with my hands gripping her more and more tightly. Arranging my thumbs to either side of her clit, I wiggle the fleshy protrusion between them as we continue. Page nearly squeals out and places her hand in her mouth. Muffled sounds hiss passed her fingers. Her horse shoe barb flips back and forth from the action of my thumb tips and cock. The three work in unison to give her pleasure we haven't had for what seems like days.

I'm certain she's going to explode as her hissing becomes gasping of air. She squirms and wriggles atop me desperately rushing to take herself to the big one. What was a trickle is becoming a flow of liquid from her. Soon wet sloshing noises accompany that odor which is uniquely hers. Her slippery nectar runs down between us, aiding her finally.

"Faaa - Ryan. Oh umg, I'm cumming. I'm cumming Ry."

"Cum on your big brother's cock," I encourage her.

She rides out her tense climax and smiles down at me. "Fuck, that was good," she says breathing hard.

I nod in agreement as my thrusting jiggles her breasts delighting my eyes. Her climax subsided, her rigidity loosens her gripping of my cock.

"Do I make you feel that good?" she asks.

"Always," I answer and continue thrusting.

She smiles and rejoins bucking back hard, "Good."

Moments later a new aroma hits us almost at once and we both say, "Mom's making French toast."

"You know how bad we're being?" I ask.

"We're not misbehaving, this is what married couples do," Page responds while attempting to refrain from giggling. "Finish up already! - Uhf - God - I'm starving," she says playfully.

"No, I'm enjoying the ride my wife is giving me. Breakfast can -" I'm responding, when she shifts everything into high gear. "Ooo - that's not fair - guhh - slow - down."

There's no going back at this point. Page is twerking herself on me. Her hips are nearly a blur as they bounce the small amount of firm flesh there in just the right way for us both.

"Can't - need it. Ohhh - that's the spot - oh yeah - I love it - when - that happens!"

The spot

is evidently wired to my attraction to her and my inability to resist her command of my body, since I begin spraying her womb with the contents of my balls. The moist sticky feeling from overflow begins trickling down my cock into my lap.

"You cheat - a lot. Faaa - so good - unggg!" I say in response to being driven over the edge, somewhat unwillingly.

She isn't stopping though and an evil grin upon her face tells me that she wants another volley. Somehow, she keeps me at full mast by contracting tightly while gyrating and jerking herself upward. The sounds of our fluids slops between us so noisily that I am certain it can be heard in the rest of the condo. I want to scream out, but when Page places her unadorned pierced left nipple into my mouth I'm instantly distracted. It is smooth like its near twin, but with the star shaped ring out, I take it eagerly between my lips and gently nip at it with my teeth. She's not letting up her pace one bit as she continues her hop-a-thon on my penis.

I can't believe how hard I'm staying. It doesn't seem possible, but there's a new tingling that tells me I may climax again, and I desperately want to slow her down just a bit. Repeating my experiment from last night, I wet my pinky with the fluids we've generated and slip it inside her butt. Wiggling it gently in and out, I'm able to adjust her pace.

"Talk about unfair," she moans as she grips me even tighter with her muscles. "Oh gawwd - yeah - ohh yes - wiggle it - just a little bit. Ohhhh - you win - you win - oooo faaaa," she says as her movements slow a bit and I am once again able to thrust upward to meet her.

Releasing her nipple, I say, "I just - like it - a little - slower," while our bodies continue to slap together forcefully.

"Me too," she sighs.

She relinquishes control and I roll her backward to be atop her. Now it is my turn to drive into her while she enjoys herself. The excitement she has built in me this morning has me approaching climax in the shortest recovery period of my life. The tingle in my balls as they slap into her is going to result in a new blast. Suddenly she clinches me, pulls my buttocks toward her and we go over the edge together this time in a series of convulsions that shake the bed violently.

"I'll never have to worry about getting bored with that," she whispers.

My hands roam from her muscular buttocks to her smooth legs. They are strong and powerful for a small woman. I don't know where it comes from, but I love the feeling of it. When we both finally relax, I can tell she wants to hurry to the kitchen, but I stay atop her staring into her face.

"We don't have to rush. I'm sure she just started making them. Hold me," I plead and nestle into her.

"Oh Ryan, do you know how much I love you?" she asks as she wraps her arms and legs around behind me.

"I honestly think I do because I love you the same amount."

We snuggle for as long as I believe we can get away with it. We don't want Mom coming to see if we're alright, so I climb off Page. She bounces from the bed and goes to the can while I dig out some old sweat pants and a tee-shirt. I hear her flush and then water running in the sink.

I meet her at the doorway on my way to relieve my pressure and as we pass she says, "Good thing I have the implant. There's no way I wouldn't be pregnant by now."

I nearly bite my tongue, but stammer out, "Yeah, a good thing -"

As I void my bladder, I am hoping that she really does have the implant. The next moment, I'm wondering,

What if she doesn't?

.

That thought is a huge distraction and the shudder that runs up my spine nearly makes me miss the bowl. Shaking off, however, the thoughts don't stop there and keep coming,

She'd be the best mother, she's so smart and full of life.

To which another part of my brain recoils with,

What the fuck are you thinking?

I flush, wash up at the sink and join her back in our bedroom, where I find she's put on one of my flannel pajama tops and a skimpy pair of shorts we got at the store. I pull on some sweat pants and a tee-shirt and together, we traipse out to the kitchen.

Mom is pulling the last pieces of toast from the griddle and says, "Look at the two of you."

I look at Page and she at me. We are somewhat disheveled looking, but we shrug and seat ourselves at the counter. I'm in the stool opposite Page as Mom sets plates for us both and sits between us at the end.

"Smells good," Page offers, handing me the maple syrup after finishing with it.

"Yeah, I love your French toast," I say pouring a liberal amount on the stack. The smell and texture is slightly different from the kind Page makes. Hers have nutmeg, allspice and are less eggy while Mom's use more vanilla and have a fluffy egg coating. For some reason I'm starving this morning and quickly cut off several pieces and stuff two in my mouth.

"Mmmm this is yummy," I say through my still full mouth. I suddenly realize they are both looking at me as I wolf down two more pieces.

"I'm glad you like it," Mom says.

Self-consciously, I eat a single piece and lick some dripping syrup from my lower lip. Page has her finger in her mouth making a facial expression that reminds me of that day she'd made the same breakfast and how that'd ended. The soft moist piece of toast is suddenly sticking in my throat as I try not to cough it out. My eyes water a little as I get up, turn away from them and strain to swallow. I pull a cup down and brew a coffee. I get the cream out and add it as the steaming fluid drips into my cup.

"Anyone else want one?" I ask hoarsely before taking a sip.

"I've had one," Mom says.

Page giggles and Mom's smile tells me she's in on the wordplay. Maybe she's even intended it or saw Page's gesture in a reflection somehow. She's always had that sixth sense about things.

"I'll take one," Page adds quickly.

I simply shake my head and pull another k-cup from the pack. Placing it in to brew, I realize these are a different brand than I usually get and say, "Your restocking must have been pretty thorough."

"I did a situational analysis and put together an inventory of what we had and what we might need."

Her words sound eerily similar to what Page had said at the cabin. I feel another cold chill run up my spine like someone is walking over my grave, but continue to fix the coffee. When it finishes, I add cream and I place it in front of Page. Sitting back at the counter, I find they are looking at me and I'm looking back and forth between them.

"What?" I ask.

"You're white as a sheet," Mom says.

"I - um - it's um - nothing."

"He's still hurt, do you think we should get him checked again?" Page asks with a concerned tone.

"Look, there's nothing wrong. It was just weird how you described what you'd done. It was very reminiscent of what Page said at the cabin, when she described counting the rounds of ammo we had."

"Look, we all need to be as honest as we can with each other. Small changes in behavior can get someone hurt or worse," Mom says. "This time was my fault, I should have chosen my words more appropriately. Your sis- yeah - um - I mean - your wife has been undergoing training and almost certainly would use the lingo she's been learning. She's no expert at covert ops yet, but we should get out of the habit of using shop-talk-lingo even around one another. And if we need to do so, then we should adjourn our conversations to the secured room here or elsewhere."

"So, try to speak more like civilians would?" Page asks.

"Yes, many people will react like Ryan has and those kinds of words sound out of place."

After we finish cleaning up from our breakfast, Page and Mom join me in my office to help me prepare a written statement for the press. My computer has been removed from my desk and the phones have been changed out for some kind of high security encrypted IP system. It is all happening so fast and without much input from me.

My laptop is more powerful than the desktop in any case and I honestly like it better. Together we work on the document that outlines how Page and I had just returned from our honeymoon vacation and how we were subsequently attacked in the parking lot after shopping. We've worked into the brief text, that I didn't know the attacker or why we were targeted. It praises the FBI's efforts in returning Page so quickly and our gratefulness to Agent Donald Jonson for spearheading that effort. Finally, we respectfully request the media avoid further inquiries about the parties involved or speculation on their motives while there is an ongoing investigation.

Just before I send it out we hear the workers arrive to continue with the modifications. Mom goes to let them in and supervise their work, while Page heads to our room to get dressed in something less revealing.

Rereading the statement for errors, I decide it is mostly true with the exception of the honeymoon and our marriage, which feels a little off, but I don't want to hinder the investigation or mess up the somewhat lucky way that we've come to this point. Once everyone is back and agrees on the content, I send it off from my new private e-mail. Then I shut the laptop and mope about the condo while Page and Mom set about different tasks.

Page takes up a position at the bar working on something that I presume is code. She seems anxious to complete an important task; her typing comes in lightning fast bursts followed by long pauses. During these, she fidgets in her seat, twirls her hair or flips through windows that appear to be monitoring various things.

Mom is at the eating table on a much larger and older looking laptop, but similarly busy working away. Her laptop is clunky in comparison, and it's got some kind of command line looking interface that I'm unfamiliar with. It is like they both speak different languages from me.

I wander back and forth between them and my office window to see what is happening on the street and with the workers. When I'm watching Page or Mom, it feels like I might be disturbing them, so I tend more to the office. There are a few interruptions during my ritual. At one point I watch the workers place additional locks on both the side and front doors with dual authentication entry points requiring a security code and biometric input. These locks are tied into the secure wireless and are the kind that drive the deadbolt into the door from the frame.

During one visit of my continuing vigil over the front street, I discern that the news vans have diminished over the course of the morning. I'm hopeful that with the coming New Year's holiday and the release of my statement, that they may be moving on to more festive events. Restless and frequent trips confirm my hope and by about noon, they're all gone. Fortunately, the work that's been continuing in the family room is stepped up as workers take full advantage of the reporters' absence to remove more dirt than I would have thought was possible.

I keep expecting we'll hear from Reba regarding the man's affiliation, but it seems we may not find out much today. When five o'clock rolls around, I am getting antsy to deal with a problem I keep thinking about. Page is still on her computer and has been for most of the day, but I haven't felt like messing with mine since sending my statement to the press. That seems doubly true now that I have some real information about what is happening.

Mom pokes her head into my office on her way back from peaking in on the family room and announces, "They're wrapping it up for today. They've made excellent progress. They broke through from your room to connect the two sides of the bunker. There's a temporary panel in your closet now."

"Wow, that was fast. Does that mean it'll be done sooner?"

"Yes, they've got all of the steel reinforcements and forms in place. They have wiring conduits situated and just need to spray in the concrete. It went faster than expected with the news trucks gone, so they got rid of much of the dirt already."