Ask No Questions

by Elyot, Justine

  "Want it?" he asked softly.

  "You know, oh God. Yes."

  He dipped his forefinger inside her lips, gathering juice from the pink swirls surrounding her clit. He could see it clearly – it was far out of hiding, as if declaring itself open to him. Come and get me. You bet I will, he said to himself.

  But first he removed his finger and sucked the juice from it, watching as Kim's face contorted with further agonies of arousal. The first taste on his tongue, the sweetest in years.

  "Want some?" he whispered, harvesting more and putting his finger to Kim's lips this time.

  Obediently she opened and licked at his finger, like a little cat with a less rough tongue. Her eyes were glazed now, as if she was sinking into an erotic trance.

  "You're very wet, Kim," he told her, tracing the pattern of her feminity, digging into each little tuck and fold of her pussy, adding more fingers as he got to know the layout well. "Did you know that?"

  "Yes," she whispered.

  "Why?"

  "Because I'm so fucking turned on I think I'm going to die."

  "Oh, don't do that. I haven't even touched your…" He passed the pad of his thumb over her clitoris and she shivered, one long spasm down the length of her body. "How long do you think it would take me to make you come?"

  "Not long, if you just…" She jolted her pelvis forward, urging him to touch her more firmly, get into a rhythm.

  He was so deeply enthralled by the responses of her body to his touch that he almost wanted to put off crossing that line from teasing to satisfying, but the poor girl had suffered enough, if you could call it suffering, so he skewered one finger then two slowly inside her, then set to work. He simultaneously thrust with one set of fingers and stimulated her clitoris with another, watching her face at first, her eyes shut, her mouth an irresistible O that he had to bend and kiss.

  When he lay over her, he could feel her heart pounding and sense her helpless little quivers as she fell deep under the spell of his touch. Her clit felt so round and plump as he flicked at it, and she was so tight and wet inside that he inserted a third finger, just to see how that would feel. At the fourth three-fingered thrust, he knew she was coming. Her breath shortened and she began to twist. He kissed and bit at her neck when she cried out, oh, how he had missed this, the knowledge that he had undone her, that he could have this effect on a woman. While she panted and jerked on his hand, he whispered into her ear.

  "Mmm, yes," he said. "Come nice and hard, love. It didn't take long, did it? I knew it wouldn't."

  He kept his fingers inside her, revelling in the heat for a moment of afterglow.

  "You're a bad man," she said shakily. "But you're bloody good at it."

  He chuckled lazily, lying by her side, and removed his fingers from her, putting them to her lips.

  "Like riding a bike," he said, while she lapped at her own juices. "If riding a bike was fucking sexy. Which it isn't, regrettably."

  He took out his fingers and leant over to kiss her, probing with his tongue, getting the taste of her back. Her drowsy, post-orgasmic face demanded more kissing and, even though his cock was desperate for release now, he thought he could hold out a while longer, make her melt into a puddle before the favour was exchanged.

  Besides, that scented tangy flavour on his tongue was giving him ideas.

  She held him close with one arm around his neck while her other hand went wandering, down his chest, drifting through the hair that arrowed down from his navel, plucking at his belt buckle.

  He put his hand over it, clicking his tongue as he pulled out of the kiss and shaking his head.

  "Not yet," he said.

  "You're hard as a rock," she exclaimed in disbelief. "Isn't it uncomfortable?"

  "I can manage," he said. "I'm not finished with you yet."

  "Oh God, what do you mean?" Her tone was a heady mix of fearful and thrilled.

  "I like the taste of you." He kissed her again, then rolled over so she was clasped on top of him while he lay on his back on the rug. "I want more of it."

  She squirmed over him, pushing her pussy against his straining crotch.

  "Uh uh," he said, smacking his palm down lightly on her bottom and lifting her to her knees. "Come on, forwards, like that."

  He made her shuffle up his torso until her crotch was inches over his face, her thighs pressed to his ears. She leant forward, her upper body resting on the armchair behind him while he got a good hold of her firm round bum cheeks and squeezed hard.

  "Oh yes," he said, speaking into her lower lips, which were still puffy and damp from his recent attentions. "This is a view."

  He eased her downwards until the tip of his tongue met her fat pink clit and he was able to breathe heat on to it and lick it in featherlight strokes.

  He held her bottom, preventing her grinding or backing away from him, keeping her in position.

  "Oh God, this is…" she moaned, her voice muffled by the chair cushion.

  "Mmm," he agreed, pushing his tongue around her dips and curves, circling her clit without giving it the relief of firm touch. He used his hands to prise her bottom cheeks apart, spreading her pussy wider, exposing her to his deeper explorations. He dug his fingers into her cleft, which made her tremble and whimper as if she feared he was going to go further inside. But that could wait. Maybe not long but it was certainly an item for further down his list.

  She flexed and rotated her hips, giving up on the idea of escape, giving in to his tongue. He felt her thighs relax, but they still quivered, beyond her control now. He fastened his mouth around her clit and flattened his tongue against the bud, moulding it to its shape then licking with full, long strokes.

  However long this gift-girl stayed, whatever happened between them, she would leave knowing that she was going to have to search high and low for a lover who compared to him.

  Above his head, a little shower of incoherent sobs and sighs fell from her lips. He felt the tension in her body, slowly releasing as she lost all control of her impulses. She was his. He had her in his palm, in thrall to his tongue and his fingers, which stroked and wriggled in her cleft while she poured more juices into his mouth.

  If he found that perfect spot, he would make her come again. This time she would come longer and harder, this time she would have the biggest climax of her life. And perhaps she would say his name.

  He was savage and unrelenting in his devouring of her, and then he found that exact combination of pace and location and motion of tongue that made her stiffen ahead of what promised to be an almighty release.

  "Oh, oh," he heard her prepare herself, and he kept up the pressure accordingly, licking and sucking hard while she beat at the chair cushion and bucked to and fro as if being thrown from a horse. She'd felt that all right. She'd remember that all her life.

  But she didn't say his name. Perhaps next time.

  He gave her clit one last salutory smooch then he let go of her buttocks and slid out from underneath her crotch. Inside his jeans, he was pretty close to catching fire. He hoped she wouldn’t need too long to recover, though he could always deal with himself if it came to it. He pictured himself covering her breasts and belly with silver ropes of ejaculate, letting it cool and dry on her skin, marking her as his.

  Taking a deep breath, he knelt up and held her from behind, clasping his hands around her stomach, kissing the back of her neck.

  "Have I killed you, sweetheart?" he crooned into her ear. "Are you all done for?"

  He settled his trouser-bulge into the crack of her bottom and rubbed it up and down.

  "That was amazing," she slurred. "I'm like, floating. On a cloud. Woah."

  He nibbled at her earlobe and flicked his tongue into the spot beneath.

  "Another satisfied customer," he said. "Are you worn out, love? Do you just want to lie down while I sort myself out?"

  "No, no," she protested, though he could hear that she stifled a yawn. "Can't have that. I want to…give me a moment. I'll be with you
in a moment."

  He laughed darkly, delighted at the effect he had had on her, then he lifted her to her feet, took his place in the armchair and pulled her down on his lap for more kissing. Never mind that his lips were sore, and hers must be even more so, given the evening stubble that had crept on to his chin and lower cheeks.

  He tugged at her pigtails, removing the elastics and unplaiting them.

  "What are these?" he scolded mildly. "I don't want to feel like I'm shagging a schoolgirl, to be honest."

  "You don't go in for fashion, do you?"

  "I'm a classic, me."

  She snorted and rubbed her nose against his.

  "Have to agree with that," she said.

  She adjusted her position in his lap, and the friction of her thigh against his cock almost made him moan aloud. He grabbed her hair in his fist and held her tight.

  "You poor thing," she said, kissing his earlobe. "Come on. I'm really hungry all of a sudden. And you've got just the thing I want."

  He let go of her, allowing her to scramble off his lap and stand between his feet. She bent and kissed him while her deft fingers, with their multi-coloured nails, worked at his fly.

  Oh, the relief when the denim loosened and the two sides fell open. Now only the cotton of his boxers lay between frustration and satisfaction.

  He helped her yank off the jeans, lifting his backside at her insistent tug. Perhaps it was ambitious to try and sustain the kiss while this was going on, but they attempted it anyway, laughing into each other's mouths when he fell back on to the cushion.

  She broke lip contact to finish the job, throwing his jeans behind her on to the rug and returning, with a look of greedy delight that touched him deeply, to his cotton-clad crotch.

  "I knew it," she said, lifting the elastic waistband over the bulge to uncover what was waiting for her. "Wow." She sucked in a dramatic breath, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

  "All yours, baby," he managed to mutter, though words were less easy to form just at that moment.

  She ridded him of the underpants and knelt before him, her breasts swinging and brushing his thighs.

  The enormity of what was going to happen hit home when she raised her hand. He was going to feel a human touch again. This woman was giving him everything he had tried to deny himself for such a long time. He shut his eyes for a moment, knitting his brow, preparing himself.

  What would she do?

  When he felt her lips brush the tip of his cock, so gently, so sweetly, he almost wanted to cry. It seemed symbolic in some way – a kiss of acceptance, of permission. He was allowed to feel pleasure again.

  "Oh, lovely," she whispered.

  He opened his eyes, watched her wrap her fingers around the root, watched them tighten, red nail, purple nail, silver nail, black nail, squeezing him just the way he wanted.

  "Oh God, Kim," he said. "I don't know how long I can…"

  Her tongue flickered out from between her lips and she let the very tip of it run from her closed hand upwards, following a straight line to the sensitive underside of his frenulum, which she licked and teased while he clutched his head in his hand and tried to remember how to breathe.

  She took pity on him and her tongue circled his bulbous tip, licking off the drop of white liquid from the top, which she swallowed with a brazen smile.

  "Tasty," she said.

  "Please," he whispered.

  "Ooh, I like having you in my power," she said, kissing his cock once more. "It's a bit of a rush."

  "Don't get used to it," he growled.

  She bit her lip and shivered with delighted mock-fear.

  "Sounds like I'm in trouble," she said.

  "Hmm, it does, doesn't it?"

  And, oh Lord, it was happening. She slid him into her warm, wet mouth, bathed him with her tongue for a few moments, then sealed her lips and sucked. His senses rushed towards his cock, bundling and swarming there while his legs turned to liquid. She looked so indecently luscious, kneeling there with his erection in her mouth, her lips stretched, her eyes heavy-lidded, her breasts squashed into the cushion that he wished there was some way to make this last forever.

  But, as it happened, it wasn't even going to last two minutes. He was much too close, much too soon and no matter how hard he tried to think of lambs and ordering a new shearing tool, Kim's attentions were much too glorious to ignore.

  Her free hand cupped his testicles, which were so tight that the merest pressure made him think he might launch into orgasm like a rocket if she wasn’t careful.

  "Oh fuck," he muttered, his breath jerking all over the place. "I can't…help it…oh, girl."

  He put his hand on her head and thrust his pelvis forward. His orgasm flowed out of him in endlessly long luscious waves, while she kept him locked in her mouth, taking all he had to give her, emptying him.

  Time seemed to stand still, the world suspended around him until the wild sensation settled into a warm glow and his eyes were able to focus once more.

  Even now, she still held on to his cock, licking up the remnants of his semen as if she could never, ever get enough.

  "You…" he said brokenly. "Come here."

  She removed his cock from her mouth and licked her lips. She'd obviously swallowed the lot.

  She returned happily to his arms, snuggling down. Skin on skin, drowsy and caressed by the fireside warmth, they stayed like that, clasped together until Rhys felt his eyelids droop and his head fall on to Kim's shoulder.

  "Bed," he said, yawning and patting her thigh. "It's all right for you, but I've got a four thirty start tomorrow. Not to mention an urgent appointment with the chemist."

  He put out the fire then led her upstairs by the hand, feeling ridiculously shy about showing her his bedroom. Nobody had ever been in it except for him.

  While she brushed her teeth in the bathroom he darted about tidying things up, not that he had much in the way of clutter. The room was spartan, drab even, if you tried looking at it through female eyes. He'd never imagined bringing a woman here. Perhaps they should have gone over to sleep in the barn, amongst the hay. It would probably be cosier.

  She'd think he lived like a student. At first, the bareness of it had been comforting, a reaction against the environment he'd lived in before, but now he realised it made him look depressed. Was he depressed?

  He asked himself the question, looking in the mirror, running fingers through his darkening stubble.

  "Am I depressed, then? And what do you know about this girl, hey? Do you have any advice for me?"

  He heard the unbolting of the bathroom door and grabbed his robe, ready to exchange places with her.

  "Sorry about the room," he said, when she wandered in, still gorgeously naked. "It's a bit basic around here."

  "As long as there's a bed in it, I don't care," she said, stopping to beg a kiss as she passed him by. He was happy to give it.

  "Well, yes, I can offer you that much. Make yourself comfortable. I'll just…"

  When he returned from the bathroom, she was already asleep. He knelt down by the side of the bed and looked at her, thinking how odd it was that this was the second time that day he'd watched her like this.

  The first time had been just hours ago.

  And now, here she was, in his bed, naked and wrung out from the orgasms he'd given her, needing to get all the sleep she could before he got a proper hold of her tomorrow.

  "Weird," he whispered. "But thank you." He raised his eyes to the ceiling, addressing an imaginary deity.

  Then he set the alarm and climbed into bed.

  Chapter Four

  The drive to the village seemed longer than ever that day, the farm track waterlogged, while sheep seemed to mock him by standing in his way as he wrestled with the gears in his effort to negotiate quicksand-like patches of mud.

  Not only did the rain persist but it was now accompanied by high winds. The growing lambs had been in a panic when he went to feed them earlier, running hither and thither and
bleating like mad.

  He had returned to the farmhouse sometime between six and seven, but she had still been asleep, so he had made himself a solitary breakfast and busied himself with securing the outbuildings against the storm until the magical hour arrived when he could head out for the village with its general store.

  "Today," he said, trying to ward off some of the irritations of the journey, "I am going to have sex. Oh, for God's sake, get off the road, you stupid animal."

  He thought of Kim lying in his bed, all warm and sleepy, limbs spread out, ready and waiting for him. What if she left though? What if he got back and she wasn't there?

  The idea spurred him to put his foot on the accelerator and honk again at the sheep, who rushed off the track as if mortally insulted.

  It took nearly half an hour to get to Pentrebach from his remote farmstead. How had she found him? It seemed so unlikely. He parked the jeep and ran through the rain to the little general store and post office at the heart of the village.

  "Morning, Rhys," said Olwen from behind the counter.

  Oh God. Olwen. He'd been banking on one of the interchangeable sulky teens of the village. Why had he come here? He should have driven on to the big supermarket in Brecon. Nobody would be peeking into his shopping basket there.

  He nodded at her and pretended to be heavily involved in the selection of tinned soups. He put two tins of different flavours in his basket, knowing he would never eat them, then edged closer to the chemist shelf. She was looking at him. He put in a pack of ibuprofen. Was there anything he actually needed, while he was here? Maybe another bottle of wine. He grabbed the first one he saw and added it to the basket.

  "Can you believe this weather?" said Olwen, putting a new till reel in the cash register.

  "The sheep can't believe it either," he said. Closer now, closer to the little cellophane-wrapped boxes on the top shelf.

  "Don't they hate having wet fleeces?"

  "Oh no, they're waterproof. It's the lanolin, see."

  He glanced over at her. She wasn't looking. Casually, he knocked two packs of condoms into the basket and covered them with an economy-sized bottle of shampoo.