“Not yet. I’m working my way up.”
“I see,” I repeated, this time walking behind him as I circled the piece. Just looking at him made me want to touch him but I refrained from distracting him and instead peered curiously at my clay sex. “Is that why you studied my pussy so intently the other night?” I asked, rather pleased with the shape of my labia and intrigued by the dark opening that glistened provocatively at the heart of my clay vulva.
“That’s one of the reasons, although I don’t need a reason to look at your pussy other than the sheer pleasure it gives me.”
When he suddenly thrust the ball of his thumb between my clay sex lips and lovingly smoothed their edges, I felt the gesture between my living legs. I realized then my panties were uncomfortably damp. And as if my physiological responses were mysteriously linked to the Earth’s atmosphere, the studio darkened abruptly as the sun disappeared behind a cloud. My pulse quickened as a wave of darkness flowed over the statues which seemed to absorb it naturally, almost hungrily.
“A storm is brewing,” I announced quietly.
He didn’t answer as he walked over to a sink and began washing his hands.
I continued studying my clay self lying across a bare wooden table. “It looks as though I’m sleeping,” I observed.
“You are,” he confirmed, removing his apron and hanging it on a bare nail in the wall. “And you’re dreaming about me fucking you.”
Far away outside the sky groaned ominously. The sound seemed full of haunting promise.
“And fuck you is what I’m going to do right now, Ariana. Take your clothes off.”
Surrounded as I was by naked bodies, all of which had been shaped by his skilled hands, I didn’t hesitate to obey him. I pulled off my shirt first, pleased by the pale perfection of my breasts, beautifully firm and round and a strangely thrilling contrast to all the hard black bosoms in the room.
“Keep going,” he urged quietly, removing his own shirt.
The sight of his naked chest sparsely covered with black hairs momentarily distracted me from the task of pushing down my shorts and panties but I quickly stepped out of them as he began unbuttoning his jeans. Now the moment had come—I felt I couldn’t wait another second to feel his cock inside me.
“Tale your sneakers off too,” he instructed. “I want you completely naked.”
I did as he said even though the wooden floor at my feet was littered with some rather dangerous-looking instruments. I could tell my work would be cut out for me domestically but I didn’t care. I already knew I would do whatever I had to in order to spend the rest of my life with this man. My discarded clothing contributed to the general chaos of the place even as I felt everything coming together inside me beneath his admiring gaze.
“I think your ponytail is adorable but I want you to let your hair down. I don’t want anything constricting you.”
I pulled the blue elastic off, dropped it on top of my shirt and shook my hair loose around my shoulders.
“You’re beautiful, Ariana.”
“I feel beautiful with you, John.”
“That’s good, because you’re mine.” He kicked off his own sneakers and stood completely naked before me. Lightning flashed outside and defined all his firm muscles in a flash of silver light that reflected my profound excitement. Distant thunder rumbled like an echo of the blood rushing through my heart as he moved toward me.
“Come here,” he said gently, taking my hand.
His small bedroom was dark and almost completely filled by a king-size bed neatly covered by a black comforter and messily crowned by at least half a dozen pillows of assorted colors. The soft mattress deliciously engulfed us as we lay down side-by-side and stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment before he abruptly rolled on top of me. I understood and shared his urgency. I was desperate to get him inside me, to feel his erection opening my pussy up around it for the first time. He supported his weight on both arms as I reached down between our bodies to grasp his cock hungrily in my hand.
“Oh yes,” I whispered. “Let me put it inside me slowly… Oh yes, like that…” I relished the sensation of his swollen head pushing between the slick folds of my labia followed by the experience of his full length gradually filling me. His cock was thick and long and felt just right. His hard-on filled me so completely my soul felt as though it had finally come home.
I reached behind him and squeezed his ass with both hands, pushing him all the way down inside me. “Oh, John!” I gasped.
“Put your hands above your head,” he commanded.
I obeyed him.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he warned quietly. “I have to fuck you, Ariana.”
“Oh yes, please, fuck me!” I begged shamelessly. “Fuck me as hard as you want to, please!”
He groaned and pulled all the way out then rammed his erection back into my body with such force it literally took my breath away. I spread my legs as wide as I could, longing to give him full access to my wet depths, and for some reason the fact that we were only joined at the sex intensified the fulfillment of his penetrations almost unbearably. His muscular arms rose around me as he fucked me with such relentless energy I was barely aware of my cries as the sound of the pouring rain outside filled the room. His violent thrusts made me feel as if the lightning was flashing inside me in all my nerve ends.
“Oh yes, yes, fuck me!” I begged. “Fuck me!”
I could tell when he started coming because his already rampant cock grew even thicker and harder, straining my pussy open around it and nearly pushing my clitoris over the luminous edge of a climax.
He collapsed against me as he ejaculated and kept pounding into me, thrilling me with his efforts to prolong the joy of our bodies coming together for the first time.
Afterward we lay in each other’s arms listening to the gentle pattering of rain on the leaves just outside the window and to our own quiet breathing. I rested contentedly with my head on his chest, silently thanking the Powers That Be for the deep, thunder-like beat of this man’s heart beneath me.
“The hardest thing about giving you a massage, Ariana,” he said, breaking the silence as he sat up, “is going to be resisting the desire to fuck you again before I’m finished. Turn over.”
I gladly obeyed him and it excited me to feel him kneeling behind me. I felt him reach for something on the nightstand and then shuddered in delight beneath the sensation of oil trickling down my spine. Yet it was nothing compared to the deep warm pleasure I experienced a moment later when his strong hands began kneading the tension-filled area just below my neck and between my shoulder blades. I moaned as his thumbs dug into my muscles and made me aware of painful pockets of tension I hadn’t even realized were there.
“Is that too hard?”
“No, it’s perfect!” I sighed. Already it was an effort to speak. Everywhere his breathtakingly talented hands pressed and caressed me hurt and yet felt better than anything. Until he discovered a muscle in my upper arm that was so profoundly sore I let out a little scream of agony when he began kneading it gently with both hands.
“You lift weights,” he observed.
“Yes… Oh God…no, don’t stop, please. It hurts but it also feels unbelievable…”
By the time he instructed me to turn around and lie on my back I was so exquisitely relaxed that thinking clearly felt like trying to run through quicksand. I thought it was all over when he began caressing my breasts but from there he moved down to my thighs, where he discovered more excruciatingly sensitive muscles in their soft inner flesh. He had already ascertained as he had worked on the backs of my legs that I was a jogger and now he concentrated on the sides of my knees in a way that had me moaning for mercy even as I never wanted him to stop.
It seemed at once too soon and a blissful eternity later when the glorious massage ended. I felt him get off the bed and opened my eyes to the dreamy vision of his fully erect cock. I raised my arms over my head and spread my legs, my hips rising t
o meet his as he thrust into my slick passage. He groaned, sucking hungrily on one of my nipples and I eagerly slipped my hand between us. He lifted himself up on his arms, making it easier for me to caress my clitoris.
“I want you to come for me, Ariana,” he commanded, slowing the pace of his penetrations so I could obey him.
“Oh yes, I’m coming… I’m coming…” The orgasm that overwhelmed me seemed to go on forever beneath his deep strokes and there was no way I could suppress my cries, which I was vaguely aware were loud enough to be heard by his neighbors even through the walls and closed windows. Yet when I could focus again he didn’t appear at all concerned that I might get him kicked out of the building. In fact he was smiling down at me approvingly.
* * * * *
When we finally rose from the bed, John very reluctantly showed me his kitchen. I refrained from wincing in pain at how small it was, and there were indeed books in the oven—on both racks. There was no toilet paper in the refrigerator but there wasn’t much else in it either, just a few suspiciously old-looking bottles of condiments and a slimy stick of butter I promptly threw in the garbage. The contents of the freezer shocked and appalled me. It was stuffed full of frozen dinners. I had wondered how this man survived with just old mustard and ketchup in his refrigerator. Now I knew and the knowledge depressed me. There were boxes of pasta in the cupboards, an assortment of exotic condiments such as mango chutney, countless jars of hot salsa, an odd combination of pans and utensils and enough mismatched stainless steel forks to equip a cheap diner.
“Why on earth do you have so many forks, John?” I asked in morbid wonder.
He shrugged his broad shoulders where he leaned naked in the doorway but I could tell my close inspection of his kitchen was making him uncomfortable.
“There must be some reason you have so many forks,” I insisted, inspecting the stove. It looked old.
“So I don’t have to wash them every day,” he admitted reluctantly. “I think I have about a two-month supply.”
I looked at him incredulously. “And you just let them sit in your sink for two months?”
He shrugged again but straightened up as if preparing to defend his domestic lethargy. “I hate housework,” he stated the obvious.
“I can see that but how can you stand to eat frozen dinners all the time?”
“They’re all right.” His mouth hardened obstinately. “You just have to know which ones to buy. I like keeping my fat intake below twenty-two grams a day if possible.”
“What? Are you kidding me? Twenty-two grams of fat per day? You must be joking. That’s impossible. We breathe in that much fat everyday.”
“Yes it is possible.” He crossed his arms stubbornly. “I’ve done it.”
“Well that’s ridiculous. A man your size can consume over fifty or sixty grams of fat per day and not gain weight.” I quickly closed the cabinet beneath the sink, which proved to be a graveyard of plastic grocery bags. “Your body and your skin need natural oils. You can’t live off just twenty-two grams of fat per day,” I insisted angrily.
“Well,” he relaxed his combative stance somewhat, “I have to admit that after a few days I desperately need to have a cheeseburger and fries or something else seriously fattening to feel right.”
I rolled my eyes but refrained from further comment.
He pulled me forcibly out of his kitchen before I could further criticize his culinary habits and we walked back out into the black forest of sculptures. I carefully watched my steps across the unpolished wooden floor in case there were any stray modeling tools lying around. It was obvious this man could not be tamed into performing household chores on a daily basis and I had no desire to try to break his spirited resistance to menial tasks. If I wanted to maintain a clean, comfortable, organized living space I would have to see to it myself.
“Come here.” He took my hand and led me over to the large black figure of a muscular man on his knees. His stone cock was fully erect and larger than life. There was the intimation of a woman’s body pressed up against him from behind with her arms wrapped around his neck. He was bent forward slightly as if supporting her as her shadowy figure flowed behind him. It was an interesting piece that spoke of strength both physical and emotional to be found in trusting intimacy. But I had to admit that the dimensions of the black erection appealed to me for much less sublime reasons. The stimulatingly ribbed, eternally hard cock was obscenely big and a shiny, slick black even in broad daylight. It was impossible for me not to have naughty thoughts about that god-like hard-on.
“I’ve seen you eyeing his big black dick, Ariana. Go ahead, suck it.”
I laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, sweetheart, you’re going to suck that big black cock while I fuck you again.” He positioned me so I was facing the breathtakingly well-hung figure. The man was kneeling on a pedestal that put his erection on a level with my breasts. I had to bend forward to take it in my mouth as John grabbed my hips and pulled them back against him, forcing me to brace myself on the muscular thighs of one of his creations. I thought about protesting, about complaining that it was no fun putting something cold and lifeless in my mouth but for some reason I didn’t.
I moaned as the dangerously unyielding head grazed my tender throat yet I was perversely compelled to take the lifeless cock all the way into my mouth. I could feel how much my effort excited John and I imagined he was remembering the feel of my mouth and throat even as he enjoyed the clinging caress of my pussy.
“Mm, yes, suck it. I love watching you suck cock, Ariana. Next time I think I’ll make that another man’s real living cock between your sweet lips.”
I moaned, loving that he was talking dirty to me. But surely that’s all it was, talk. Yet wondering if he really meant it intensified my excitement to the point where I couldn’t resist stroking my clit as his hips picked up speed.
Then he suddenly pulled out of me. “Turn around,” he commanded.
I obeyed him weakly, scarcely daring to realize what he had in mind.
“That’s it. You can do it,” he encouraged me in a sexy voice I found impossible to resist. “I want you to fuck yourself with that big black cock while you suck me off.”
“Oh no, I can’t…”
“Yes you can,” he insisted firmly. “You can and you want to.”
My body had no desire to argue with the tone of his voice.
I bent at the waist, bracing myself on his warm and wonderfully tender erection as I felt the bulbous stone head lodge itself in the entrance to my sex. I was frightened of how big it was but I couldn’t resist carefully forcing myself back against it. The statue’s cock was slick with my saliva and my pussy was wet with my juices and John’s cum, providing more than enough lubrication for the overwhelming penetration.
John muffled my cries with his cock as I willingly struggled to wrap my tight pussy around the thick and relentlessly hard stone shaft. I wasn’t satisfied to feel it only partially filling me. I longed to feel the full rending black length in my belly stuffing and impaling me. Very slowly I dared to let it in deeper and a little deeper still until suddenly I started coming around it as my living lover fucked my mouth. His erection was diminished slightly by a recent orgasm but it stiffened and thickened again to its full breathtaking dimensions as he pumped selfishly in my face. Ecstasy sliced through me and opened me up, burying the big black cock deep inside me as the last of John’s sperm trickled onto my tongue and flowed soothingly down my throat.
Chapter Ten
That afternoon we took my rental car down to Key Biscayne and spent half the time sunbathing and the other half bodysurfing in the invigoratingly cool waves. This was a dangerous sport for me because the powerful rush of the tide kept threatening to rip off both halves of my red bikini, which was, I think, what John most enjoyed about the sport. He smiled appreciatively every time the ocean innocently succeeded in stripping me for an instant.
“I should have worn my black one-piece!
” I gasped after a particularly rough landing in the gritty sand where a huge wave violently flung me.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” he said as he helped me adjust my spaghetti-thin shoulder straps.
We enjoyed taking turns caressing suntan lotion all over each other but there were too many people around for us to enjoy lingering too long under the sun. It was late in the afternoon when he helped me back into my sarong and we walked contentedly back to the car.
We stopped at seaside barfor a refreshing drink. The sun was beginning to set as I ordered a glass of Chardonnay. We were sitting at a table beside the floor-to-ceiling windows looking west over the Bay toward downtown Miami, the city into which the earth’s fiery lord appeared to be gradually sinking.
“I’ll have a Bombay Sapphire and tonic, a single in a tall glass,” John told the waitress, looking steadily up into her eyes from his comfortable chair to make sure she understood him correctly. “With a slice of lime, please.”
It was a lovely place and time of day to sit and talk for a while. I was so relaxed the world felt enchanted, in a very real way transcending any fantasy. The wine seemed to capture the golden light sparkling across the water and pour it into my glass. Every sip filled me with a growing sense of magic existing right at my fingertips if I truly believed in it. The restaurant was artificially cold but even the slight chill I suffered wet-haired and bare-shouldered in my damp sarong was sensually enjoyable to me as I listened attentively to what John was saying while admiring the way his eyes both absorbed and reflected the dying light. Every now and then boats sailed or motored by outside the glass as the water darkened, the sky grew more luminous and the distant city began coming to life as if powered by the sun descending behind the buildings.
It was in those moments, as John and I both fell quiet, that I let go of Boston in my heart and embraced the thought of moving back to Miami. My mother and all my other relatives would be ecstatic, especially since I had made it clear to them that I would never ever come back to Miami. God was having a little fun with me but I didn’t care. In fact if this was the way Providence amused Itself, I was all for being played with.
Faith in the Flesh Page 10
