by L. A. Zoe
While aiming his manhood at my opening virginity spread to welcome him home.
The sharp pain stabbed up, and I shrieked. The shock of my torn flesh reminded me of losing my left thumbnail to a swing set in the fifth grade.
But, after all, the pain was merely physical, and I didn’t require a visit to the emergency room. That torn flesh would never grow back, but it was designed to be penetrated and ripped loose.
As the ache retreated, I felt Rhinegold’s penis rubbing me back and forth inside. Then, before I could even try to react, wetness squirted, and Rhinegold lowered himself to the side.
“You all right?” he asked, arm around my shoulder, eyes staring into mine.
“Yes,” I whispered. “When do we do it again?”
We spoke of quiet, small things. Nothing heavy. I loved him and he loved me, and we needed to say nothing more about that as we traded lighthearted kisses and jokes about the people at the party.
And soon he didn’t pull his mouth away, but kept on kissing, and our lips quivered as our tongues danced, licking and intertwining like two snakes, forming hearts for the holiday.
His saliva, sweet to the taste, despite the beer hops. Crumbs of pecan pie between his molars.
Out intertwined bodies like jungle vines, the fervid black topsoil of the bed nourishing our mutual hallucinations.
I traced his muscles as he explored the small curves of my body.
Only one fold of flab at the side of his waist. “You need to go on a diet,” I teased as I pinched it.
He laughed, but said nothing.
“Don’t I need to gain weight?” I asked.
He shook his head slowly. “You have the sex appeal and passion of ten of other women. All concentrated into one small body. You’re so dense with hypersensuality you might explode like an atomic bomb.”
“Think of all the guys have called me ugly, or a masculine lesbian.”
“Fools so blinded by the rising sun they think dawn is a darker night.”
I ran my fingers through his patches of hair, especially the mat covering his chest.
“Now your muscles don’t seen so big and hard,” I said.
He raised his arm and made a muscle, tightening his arm and chest at the same time. I squeezed. “Solid as a concrete block,” I said, and a quivering thrill flowed through my body like a current of cold spring water through a warm water lake.
He ran his hands over my skin. Starting at the neck, making me conscious of my blood pumping against the femoral artery. The tendons on each side of my throat. The curves of my collar bone.
Down to circle the base of each breasts. Spiraling around, switching directions, all around, finally finding my engorged nipples. Feeling my own, inner energy swirl in sync to his fingertips. Rising, falling, then rising to a new crest.
His admired my flat, smooth tummy. The line of abdomen from my breast bone down to my pubic, while tickling my belly button along the way.
Like mesmerist making animal magnetism passes with his hands. A faith healer calling upon the grace of God.
Pleasure building. Starting as a small trickle, drops of water into an empty fifty-five gallon drum. Rising slowly at first, like an early morning drizzle into a backyard bird bath.
Overflowing, puddling, sliding over the muddy ground to form a creek, a stream flowing into a small river, into the Mississippi, and down into the mighty ocean.
Where my entire body vibrated with tension, and I ached for a relief from the thrill, the risk I’d drop dead of too much excitement.
Then Rhinegold kissed my inner thighs. Licking and tonguing and sucking and nipping my tender flesh with his incisors, leaving a trail of bright red heart-shaped hickeys from my knees up to my crotch.
Which opened automatically, and juices gushed at the feel of his warm, slippery, wet, wonderful pink tongue.
My nub swelled and stuck its head up, and when licked by Rhinegold, shot squirts of ecstasy throughout my nerves, turning every muscle into a quivering, spent lump of broccoli.
I gasped, and moaned a long, low shriek that came from all that tender flesh and hyperexcited nerves there between my legs.
Somehow I failed to remember who I was, everything about me. Not just my name, but my pain, my depression, the loss of my sister, the humiliation Helena put me through—everything.
The universe shrunk to that small, dark bedroom. I didn’t even think how he grew up sleeping every night right there, in that same bed, as a small boy, then a bigger one, then a teenager.
Helena, Keara, Sybille, his father—forgotten. Even Georgie and Mom. My job at the Sunshine Garden. My plans to go to college. Everything, gone.
The past and future vanished, absorbed by the all-devouring present. The quest for ecstasy.
Rhinegold’s tongue soothed the lingering soreness of my broken hymen, the smooth, blissful sensation overwhelming the slight remaining pain.
I arched and wiggled, seeking to maximize the intensity, and the pleasure grew in volume and velocity, faster and more exciting.
Rhinegold’s tongue on my clit. Massaging. Licking me everywhere at once, it seemed. Through the fuzzy hairs covering my groin. Spreading my lips. going inside.
And then everywhere his tongue kissed built up to a huge firecracker, and exploded.
The world inside me blackened for an instant, and for an instant more, I remembered the feel of wearing my thick woolen jammies to bed with JaeSea, each of us tummies full with warm chocolate milk and tapioca … Mommy kissing our faces and cheeks and lips, and then saying goodnight, my angels in a bright, calm voice, then tucking us in—and we’d giggle together when she left, and talk and argue, and soon fall asleep in each other’s arms …
Then I returned to the present, and Rhinegold’s hot tool so big in my tiny hand, but I lead him to lie on his back, and straddled his hips.
I wasn’t sure how far inside of me I could take him. The first time, he didn’t make it his full length, and he was on top and in control.
I wanted to give back to Rhinegold. Suspend my pleasure and hold off my orgasms. Just arouse him to the ultimate, selfishly showing off what I could.
His mouth left me dripping, sopping wet, needing no lubrication.
I maneuvered the tip of his penis to the opening of my vagina, which opened like a hungry crocodile, gullet gaping, pulling him deeper inside.
I leaned forward, and slowly lowered my weight. Feeling my vagina stretch.
Farther and farther, deeper within me, up closer to my belly, even my throat it seemed, for I half-choked.
I twisted and wiggled. Oooh, good, more friction stimulating more juices eating his penis farther inside.
My vagina like a balloon swelling. Could it pop? I didn’t believe so, but it could hurt, and I came close to the pain.
When I felt I couldn’t stretch any more, I’d stop, relax, and take a deep breath. Evidently understanding, Rhinegold didn’t say a word, just waited. He moved to complement my strokes, and held still when I did.
I didn’t think his length could extend up to my belly button, but for a few minutes, that’s what it felt like.
I remember thinking he really needed a woman closer to his size, another blonde Viking such as Helena.
Finally my thighs straddled his hips. The base of my pelvis rested on his, and pushed against his balls.
I didn’t know any technique, so I just followed an inner feeling, moving … slowly at first, then faster, building up speed … keeping him so deep inside me I nearly cried.
His girth filled my stomach and massaged my intestines, and yet I wouldn’t let go.
I moved until we both groaned in fast-breathing gasps. My heart slammed against my ribs like a silly cartoon. Sweat ran in rivulets down my sides and my back, dripping onto Rhinegold from my forehead.
My vagina relaxed to his volume even as its walls clenched him harder, gripping tight to enjoy the masculine flesh.
I discovered I could increase friction by bouncing up and down, tak
ing him from all the way in to half out, and back over and over again … faster and faster.
Rhinegold and I locked hands. He held me as I leaned back, my head nearly touching his toes.
I fell forward again, and discovered how to twist my hips around and around. Finally, Rhinegold screamed.
I felt his manhood spurt just as a fireworks display of colors exploded before my eyes, and I passed out.
When I opened my eyes, I lay side by side with Rhinegold, sharing our steamy breaths, him staring at me.
I turned away. Shy, embarrassed, certain I must have done something wrong.
I asked, “Was it … okay?”
He smiled. “Well worth waiting for.”
The undertone of enthusiasm in his voice reassured me. He wasn’t saying that just to protect my feelings. I had pleased him.
And myself. I made love to a man and … WOW!
Chapter Thirty-Four
The End of the Party
By the time Rhinegold and SeeJai rejoined the party, the band members were packing up their instruments and other equipment. Many pink balloons drifted waist-high instead of bouncing along the ceiling. Scattered groups of drunks sat around sprawled over the furniture, talking in low tones and slurred voices or arguing loudly.
The caterers turned off the blue flames and carried the food dishes back to the kitchen, but Rhinegold made a quick ham and cheese sandwich, and grabbed a piece of cake. He retrieved a can of Pepsi from a aluminum tub filled with melted ice.
“I’m starving,” SeeJai said. “Does it always make you this hungry?”
Rhinegold didn’t know what to say. He had eaten many after-sex late-night snacks. But couples sharing the same bed usually just turned over and went to sleep. And didn’t try for twice in the same night anyway. Not once they had a full work/class/childcare schedule. Or so he’d been told.
Father and Sybille stood near the front door, making it easy for guests to say thank you and goodbye, and then leave.
Feeling tired and sore from the workout SeeJai gave him, Rhinegold wanted to vamoose as well, but he needed to eat first.
“We burned up a lot of calories,” he said.
In the corner of his eye, two blue dresses approached. Two beautiful blondes—Keara and Helena. Double trouble.
He nudged SeeJai, said, “Be cool,” and plastered a big, friendly stupid grin on his face.
Keara ran the last few steps, and put her hand on SeeJai’s shoulder. Loose strands of hair had escaped her styling gel. Eyes wide, she said, “Are you all right? You locked the door to the back stairwell behind you, and I was afraid—”
SeeJai didn’t seem to react to the touch. She continued to spoon scalloped potatoes onto her plate. “I’m sorry if I frightened you. I just needed a little air.”
Helena grabbed the last piece of cherry pie. “Come on, Keara, you can see she’s fine. She kept warm … somehow.”
“Keara,” SeeJai said in a commanding voice, though still without looking at her. “Next time you want to show me your friend kissing Rhinegold, just tell me what’s going on.”
“SeeJai,” Keara whispered. “I—”
“He’s a big boy. He can kiss whomever he wishes. Helena or … anyone.”
“SeeJai,” Rhinegold said in a low whisper. “Let’s go.” He tried to take her elbow, but she twisted her arm out of his grasp.
“Well, it’s true,” she said. “I’m not jealous. Certainly not of her.”
Sybille and Father left the front door duty, and joined them. Father had unbuttoned his vest, and weaved, but just a little. He might arrive at the office tomorrow morning at nine instead of the usual seven o’clock. Sybille looked as fresh as early in the evening, except for bloodshot eyes.
“I hope everybody had a good time,” she said, putting her arm around Keara. “How about you, sweetie?”
“Just fine,” Keara said with a sick grin.
“Thank you very much for inviting me, Mrs. Cunningham,” Helena said. “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
“Thank you, my dear. Your violin playing entertained everybody immensely. Everybody commented on how nice it was.”
“Thank you for allowing me to come,” SeeJai said. “It was the best Valentine’s Day party I’ve ever attended.”
The look in Sybille’s eyes told Rhinegold his stepmother believed it was the first Valentine’s Day party SeeJai ever attended, and she was probably right.
Still, after the past few hours, he didn’t doubt SeeJai’s sincerity.
Father stared at everybody with those fierce lawyer eyes that always saw deeper meanings into what you said than anybody wanted known. Her eyes flicked from SeeJai to Rhinegold. Then he understood. Just like that.
“Well, my dear,” he told SeeJai. “I hope you remember what we spoke about earlier this evening.”
Her eyes flickered, and she looked down. “I won’t forget it.”
Sybille sniffed, and chuckled. “I do believe I smell shampoo. My goodness, has somebody just taken a shower?”
Then everybody understood. They couldn’t know Rhinegold and SeeJai never did anything more than kiss before, so they might wonder why the two of them couldn’t wait to go back to the room they shared.
“Ahem,” Father said. “Old lawyer trick, dear. You never want to let them see you sweat. But that’s easy. If you don’t want them to smell your sweat, you’ve got to wash it off during courtroom breaks.”
Looking at the four young adults, Sybille said, “Oh, my, the things you learn when you marry an attorney.”
Band members traipsed past them, carrying their equipment.
“And I’ve told the maids to fix you all up with Care packages,” Sybille said.
“Mother, that’s too much,” Keara said.
“Nonsense, I know how it is in a college dorm. You and Helena share with your friends. And you too, Rhinegold and SeeJai.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“Nonsense,” Father said. “We’ve got enough leftovers to feed half of Sri Lanka. I’d send it to them if I could, but I can’t, so you guys get it all.”
Sybille tugged at his arm. “Come on, dear. We’ve got guests leaving we must say goodbye to.”
They returned to their front door duty.
Rhinegold drained the can of Pepsi and set down his empty plate. He told the others, “It’s time we hit the road as well.”
“We’re on our way,” Helena said. “As soon as I get my violin case.” She sped away, apparently assuming Keara remained right behind her.
Keara’s chin scrunched up in a way that reminded Rhinegold of The Big Scene two years ago, but this time she didn’t break down into hysterical tears and a near-seizure. She appealed to Rhinegold and SeeJai with big eyes like Bambi begging the hunter not to shoot his mother.
“I’m sorry. I hope you’ll find it in your hearts to forgive me like Christians.”
To Rhinegold’s amazement, SeeJai said, “For what?” She opened her arms, and pulled Keara into a tight embrace. “You’re Rhinegold’s sister, so now you’re my sister too.”
JaeSea 3
February 15
Dear JaeSea,
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
You must know already, don’t you? When you’re out of your body you have like paranormal powers, right? All-Knowing, All-Seeing.
Maybe it’s not fair to give you all the credit. I mean, I must have a good Guardian Angel appointed at my birth, right? I didn’t die in the accident, and you did.
I haven’t figured out how or why. Do you? Have the other angels told you that yet? Or is it something doesn’t seem so important anymore?
Yet my heart tells me you’re the one who helps me now. You take care of me, and Mom. You can’t cheer her up by giving her what she really wants—which is you back alive—but you sent her Georgie, didn’t you? So far, so good.
I have problems, but you can’t stop that, right?
Just keep giving me the strength to go on down her
e without you.
I love Rhinegold—omigod I just wrote that without thinking, but it’s true, I do—but you’re my sister, and he’s man enough to understand.
So keep on loving and helping me, JaeSea. I still miss you everyday. I love Rhinegold, but even he can’t fill the hole inside my soul you left behind.
Thank you again from …
Your Earthbound sister,
SeeJai
Chapter Thirty-Five
A Winter’s Day
The early morning light woke me.
Huddled next to Rhinestone’s body, sheltered in the cone of heat he gave off, I felt safe and warm. I raised my head to glance out the window, and the cold air hitting my face sent a shiver down my spine.
Layers of hoarfrost still caked the outside of the windows, its swirls and paisley figures turning the panes into translucent volcanic glass. Outside, snowflakes still felling in a whirling rush, piled on the outside sill halfway up the glass.
What a shock.
The latest blizzard began right after last night’s dinner shift, continued as Rhinegold walked me home, and as we ate a late snack, and then made love.
I wore a really sexy outfit: gray sweater and black sweat pants over my panties, and two pair of thick cotton athletic socks. And even so, without Rhinegold next me, even under three wool blankets, I’d be cold.
Admitting my love for this man was great. And hearing him tell me he loved me. And making love.
But it didn’t bring spring. Or anything except more cold, ice, and snow.
A gust of wind rattled the windowpane. I smelled the cold wetness, and a hint of frozen soil.
How long since Cromwell’s temperature went above freezing? Almost two months. Last night we nearly needed a dog sled just to get from the restaurant to our room. The stores have all run out of rock salt. The street crews are racking up enough overtime to retire on.
