by Neal, Xavier
The two of us make our way up to our room, a tangle of tongues and limbs. Seeping into our system, further fueling our excitement, are faint aromas from the fair foods and beer. Who knew all the best parts of southern living would be such an aphrodisiac?
I toss Jazz onto our bed before starting to undo the buttons of my shirt, not prepared to waste any more time on this side of her body. While I'm busy undressing myself, I get slowed down watching her pull off my hat to let down her dark brown hair. Freezing me in place, I'm entranced as it falls down onto her shoulders like some sort of 80's porno waiting for a close up. My tongue and cock swell alike at the same time. She yanks off her tank top in one swift motion before popping her gorgeous tits free for my mouth to sample. On a groan, I rush over to do just that, sucking a nipple between my teeth. I let my hands help my efforts of warming up the oven that's going to be baking orgasm after orgasm by roughly massaging at her boobs. Next her hips. Lastly her thighs. Somehow heated kisses of her lips, neck, and nipples turns into the two of us completely naked with me spreading her legs wide underneath me.
Dragging my teeth across her collarbone I declare, “Darlin' I'm goin' in just like this. You've seen my medical records. You know I'm good.”
Jazz's chest increases in rising pace. In a shaky whisper she questions, “You're not worried I am?”
“Nope,” I reply, my nibbles now on her neck. “You haven't been with anyone since you recruited us.”
Curious she moves her eyes to meet mine. “How do you know that?”
“We're all observant in this unit. It's a requirement.” After she smiles, I command, “Now hold on darlin' cause it ain't gonna be gentle.”
Her teeth assault her own bottom lip while I lead the crown of my cock inside her body that's more than willing by the amount of sticky sensations greeting me. However, as I push inside meeting more resistance than expected, I keep my eyes planted on Jazz who looks less and less comfortable with each passing second. Did I make a mistake? Is this not what she wanted?
“Darlin',” I groan out reaching uncomfortable levels myself from her body rejecting mine. There's no worse rejection in life than the woman you love accepting you while her body repels you. “Can you relax for me?”
“I am relaxed,” she tensely replies.
Nuzzling my face against hers until her eyes open again, I let out a deep breath, and my hips nudge my cock in deeper.
“Ou...ou...” the plea escapes and stills my body.
I stare down at her praying to God I'm wrong. The signs are all there. But could that fucking be possible? But for the sake of my conscious, I have to check. “Jazz, be honest. When's the last time you had sex?”
“It's...um..it's been a while.”
“How long?”
When silence falls as her answer, I start to withdraw my dick. Immediately her hands fly around me. “No. Don't!”
On a stern voice I ask, “How long?”
“Never,” her quiet confession has me withdrawing further.
“Don't! Don't stop...” she pleads.
Our eyes meet again and I shake my head. “You're a fucking virgin.”
The word seems to hurt by the new expression she's sporting. “It's not an STD.”
“I know it's not. It's...” The end of the sentence is unsure to me so I stop it before I ruin this entire night.
“It's what?”
“Special? I don't know. But I do know Jazz, this isn't how you should lose your virginity.” Feeling like a jackass not only for not knowing, but for damn near tearing her to shreds in the campaign to come, I sigh, “You deserve better than this. You deserve...shit I don't know...hearts and flowers or some shit.”
“Weren't you the one who said this isn't some fucking romance novel?”
The bite of my words causes me to briefly scrunch my face. “I did. Doesn't mean you don't deserve better. That I can't try to give that to you.”
“Lordy,” the tone in her voice is now sharp and reminds me of her work tone. Not really a turn on. “I don't want you to start treating me like the delicate flower you suddenly feel I am. I want you to treat me like the 29 year old woman you were about to.” My dick twitches at the command. Needy bastard. One of her hands tilts my chin up. “Don't force me to make that an order.”
An animalistic growl has my body re-positioning myself on top of her. Hooking my arms under both her legs to spread her wide, my original mission back in front of me, I state, “Fine. But round 2 we go slow.”
Excited Jazz runs her hands up my chest, but tries to remain in control. “Fine.”
With a warm smile I rock my hips forward slightly, once again entering more than just the tip. This brief moment is the only warm up she's going to get. “This is gonna hurt darlin'.”
“Not all pain is bad...” Her answer is perfect. “Giddy up...”
I take one moment to admire the view. The woman of my dreams, a sassy mouthed self-sufficient woman whose virginity, whose ultimate surrender has only been offered once. To me. On a savage sound, I sharply thrust forward, my dick stabbing through the barrier of resistance. She tenses up, but I don't let it stop me this time. I keep pushing in, gripping her legs tightly, rhythmically reeling my cock until her pussy submits realizing the path of pleasure ahead. Never missing a beat I plow into her repeatedly as she moans my name and arches into every angle, anxious for absolution. I drop her legs and use one hand to beckon the orgasm she's seems unsure of and the other to cradle her nape. Fuck missing a second of this sacred moment. Jazz's breath staggers. She squeezes her eyes shut. Her body starts to tremble in the process of succumbing to not one orgasm, but two, so close together, if there hadn't been a brief pausing in suffocation of my cock I would've never known.
She wiggles. Whimpers. Cries out, “No more Lordy...I can't...I can't...”
“You can darlin',” I state my hips still hammering away. “Take it. All of it.”
“God Lordy,” her defeat with my name is enough to warrant my own release.
I let out a low grumble as she sucks more than just an orgasm out of me. If this is God's way of justifying the bullshit I endured for years from this family, for the years of rejection, mortification, and plummet in my self-worth, then apology accepted. I'd go through all of it again for this woman.
Day 17 in Georgia
Astonishingly enough, when my internal clock buzzes that it's time for a morning run, Jazz is still sprawled out in the bed beside me. Her dark brown hair is tangled around her face that still looks flushed from more than the Georgia heat. The sheet is barely covering her tits and her legs that are intertwined with it are inviting me to unwrap her body from it.
Unable to resist such a polite offering, I relocate my body between her legs, moving the blanket out of my way carefully before trailing kisses up her leg until my tongue darts out to taste the appetizing treat my mind has spent months debating on the level of deliciousness. One lick is all it takes before I'm face deep sucking and devouring her like a perfect fresh picked peach on a day hotter than hell.
A shocked gasp transforms quickly into melting moans as I continue feasting. With closed eyes, I lose myself in the feeling of her trembling legs and fevered fingers that are pulling at my hair. Once the first orgasm slips out of her, I slide my body up, roll her over, and plant her down on my cock from her straddled position.
Jazz bows forward, her hair dangling over her boobs while her hips start a ride I know they aren't accustomed to. She continues to slowly move back and forth as if observing what feels best, making notes for files in her mind. Now these are the kind of notes I don't mind she makes, especially if she shares them or they all end with 'and that's when Lordy made me come'. Enjoying the view I lazily drag my hands up her legs, up her hips, cupping a hand full of tits before pulling her body down on top of mine to share the flavor of her that's still lasting on my tongue. She increases her speed desperate to fuel that friction she wants on her clit. Aware of her needs and how to fix them, I push her body back up
so she's straddling me once more and apply perfect pressure with my thumb.
In a low hoarse voice I growl, “Du bist mein.”
Jazz moans in return, “Ja...”
“Tu es à moi,” the French declaration sounds slightly sexier than the German one.
On a squeak, after her body starts indicating the impending end is near she says, “Oui...”
“Tutto mio...” the repetition in Italian is the last one that makes it out of me before she lets go completely. Jazz shudders in waves on top of me, nails clawing at my chest leaving her mark on my body as much as my mind. Yanking her down again I engulf her body tightly, lips pressed firmly to ear, “In every and all languages darlin',” the words are echoed by my thrusting dick. “You're mine.” Her screaming into my neck shuts my eyes tightly as the need to come starts to slither in. “All mine...” Jazz's teeth lock onto my neck forcing me to growl while filling her. “Only mine.”
**
Downstairs Jazz and I settle at the table with Pa who has an all knowing grin on his face. Placing the newspaper down he playfully says, “According to today's paper, it says there was a storm last night...”
“I don't remember hearing rain.” Ma places a bowl of biscuits in front of us. “Thunder maybe...”
Instantly, my temperature rises despite the fact my jaw has dropped at their laughter. Jazz snickers beside me and I shoot her a look not to encourage them.
In a low snip she says, “It was funny.”
“It wasn't.”
“It was.”
“Would you have thought it was funny if Glove said it?”
“Yeah. But then again if Glove would've been that clever, it would've been worth noting.”
“Oh Rascal, we're all grown in this house.” Pa chuckles interrupting our bickering. “You weren't the only reason this house was shakin' last night.”
“Pa!” I croak.
“Jody Lord!” Ma scoffs.
When Jazz's laughter gets louder, Pa says to her, “At least you're not a prude like others in this family.”
“I'm not a prude,” Ma snips. “That's just not breakfast talk.”
“It's dessert talk. And there's always room for peaches and cream.”
My blistering face falls forward while my girlfriend struggles to catch her breath from the laughter.
“Jody...”
“Gonna get the spoon?” Pa lifts his coffee cup. “It's in our bedroom. You should remember.”
Jazz giggles louder and I bury my face in my hands. He's a dirty old man. Playful. Full of life and spirit. As much as he is embarrassing the fuck out of me, I wouldn't have him any other way. If I don't die in a mission before I reach his age, I beg to end up just like him.
“Jody, don't make me get the soap.” Ma sits down beside him.
“I am still sticky,” his comment reddens her face.
“I swear...”
“Look at that baby! Just in time for breakfast,” Jo's voice cuts in.
“I love Ma's breakfast,” Mary Beth exclaims siting down beside Ma across from Jazz who doesn't seem to let the bitchy presence of one woman erase the afterglow of properly coming multiple times this morning.
The accomplishment has me sitting up a little taller and wrapping an arm around the back of her chair. It's on the agenda today to add a couple more to the list.
“I know that look,” Pa chortles.
“Couldn't get dressed for breakfast, Rascal?” Jo sneers. “Lost your manners?”
“You lost yours boy?” Pa points to his elbows resting sloppily on the table. “Besides, don't worry about why Rascal couldn't put on his real pants. Worry about why you can put on yours.”
The sideline comment that implies his lack of a sex life makes me smile wider.
“Pray!” Ma shouts. We join our hands and she continues, “Thank you for this blessed food, this blessed day, and the blessings this family endures every morning, afternoon and night. Amen.”
We echo a soft 'amen' before Pa grabs a piece of bacon. “I can think of some blessings I wouldn't mind exploring this afternoon and night.”
“Pa,” Jo groans uncomfortable.
“Prude,” Pa grumbles Jazz's direction. She simply smiles and waits to be passed the pancakes.
“That was some fancy shootin' yesterday,” Mary Beth brings up. “Where'd you learn to do that?”
Jazz politely smiles. “A lady doesn't kiss and tell.”
“Good luck explain' that to Mary Beth,” Pa's joke gets a heavy snigger from me.
“Pa!” Jo raises his voice.
“Put your horses back in the stable, Jo. This is why you're not invited to breakfast. You don't know when to laugh and when to pout. Always too big for your britches.”
“Can we talk about something else?” He grunts. “Maybe about the updated copies we received this week on how your death is to be handled?”
“That's hardly better breakfast conversation,” Ma sighs. “Sex at breakfast is better than death. At least that's part of living.”
“You sent out an updated will this week?” I reach for my fork, eyes still on him.
Pa nods, but Jo taunts, “Not will. Our inheritances aren't included in it. It's just what to do in case of his death. You'd know that if you were actually here being a part of this family instead of off playin' G.I. Joe.”
Darting my attention to his direction I bite, “Watch your mouth.”
“He serves his country well. He doesn't do it for show. He doesn't do it for thanks. He does it so spoiled brats like you can sit in your castle and freely bother the rest of the common folk. You may not respect your brother worth a damn, but you will respect what he does for this country. Understood Joseph?”
“Sorry Pa,” he shamefully whispers.
“Apologize to your brother.”
Reluctantly he gripes, “Sorry, Rascal.”
Jazz slides her hand across my thigh sending the spiraling anger to sexual aggression. Adjusting in my seat, she smirks pleased with her intended results.
“Why did you send an updated version, Pa?” I lean back in my seat. “And why didn't I get one?”
With a piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth like a cigar, which forces Ma to swat at him, he replies, “I send out strict updated instructions on what is to happen to me in case of my unexpected death. This family has hard enough problems agreeing on everything, so it's documented to avoid such a fuss. How the company is to be operated is discussed at quarterly meetings. Who gets what will be announced at the right time. And you got an updated version, Rascal. I handed it to sugar while you were nappin' that day.”
I let my eyes land on Jazz who shrugs. “It's probably in my pile of paperwork.”
“You didn't think it was important to get that to me the minute I woke up?”
“He said it wasn't urgent.”
“It's not,” Pa backs her. “I'm not croakin' here at the table no matter how desperate my kin may be to see it.”
“You know we don't want you dead Pa,” Jo softly says.
“I know you don't.” His eyes unsubtly give Mary Beth a glance.
Ma hums, “I'm startin' to.”
“Mary Belle Lord,” Pa playfully laughs. “Wishin' death on me after the mornin' we had?”
She giggles and grabs her coffee. “I'm a fickle pickle. What can I say? You're lucky I married you...”
“Don't think I tell myself anything different every morning...”
The good humor between them eases the tension that's clearly on the rise. I don't give a fuck the damn thing doesn't say shit about money. I care what happens to Pa. He was the only one besides Ma who cared about what happened to me. He deserves his wishes honored whether it's to be cremated or shot off into space. He deserves for me to be there when that day comes years from now.
“You've been married almost 50 years and you're still this happy,” Jazz sweetly praises. “What's the secret?”
“Peaches,” Ma knowingly replies. “Lots of 'em.”
; “That's true.” Pa points his fork at her smacking on a biscuit. “And laughter.” The smile on my face spreads. “Life is going to hand you a million reasons to wanna throw it in the stable, to walk before the cows come home, challenge your values and morals. There'll be liars and thieves around so many corners that sometimes you won't know which way is up. You gotta know that the person next to you is in it for the peaches and laughter because you get plenty of the other shit everywhere else.”
“Well said,” Jazz sighs.
Ain't that the truth? Even now as we face that in our unit, the only person I want beside me during it all ain't even my brothers. It's this woman beside me. The one whose laugh ignites up my own. Who tastes sweeter than peach pie on the Fourth of July. Who not only knows the Rascal side of me I hide from, but the Lordy side, and accepts both for everything they are. I wanna spend the rest of my life with the woman who makes it okay to be in my own skin. Who wants me to strive for excellence as she pushes me to do it.
“So you're sayin' we don't lie in this family?” Jo chops through my thoughts.
“Don't start mess at my breakfast table Joseph,” Ma's voice warns. “I'll teach you a lesson just like I did when you were eight and I let you get stung by those bees for poking their hive.”
“We don't lie in this family,” I insert myself into it. “That's not the Lord way.”
“Right.” Pa clears his throat. “Now, let's talk about how Betty ripped off Ma's famous cobbler.”
“Oh don't get me started on that woman! If I had a dollar for every time she ripped off something I did,” Ma's rant has Pa chuckling victoriously at his shift in topic.
He may have won over the other's attention, but not mine. As I lift a bite of eggs to my lips I keep an eye on Jo across the table. What the fuck is he talking about? We don't lie in this family. When I found a condom in one of the spare rooms at six, instead of making out something innocent, Pa was up front with me, telling me it was to make sure when guests did grown up things they didn't have any more babies. Hell, I thought it was a candy wrapper. But what did Jo mean? Does he know about Mary Beth's phone call to me last year? Does he know we used be whatever it was we were? Does he know she used me to get to him? Even if he does, I didn't lie about it. I just didn't tell him to protect him. I may not like my family, but I would never actively hurt them. No matter if they would me.
