by Ada Winter
I step onto the stool right between his legs and lift myself onto the kitchen counter right in front of his face. I spread myself wide and lean back on one elbow, stabilizing myself with my hand. Working my clit with two fingers, my juices are spilling down onto the counter.
Less than a foot from his face now, I open my eyes every so often, release a soft moan and spy his eyes trained on me. Lane is licking his lips now and I can tell he is absolutely losing it. With my free hand, I free the vibrator from its case and insert it into my dripping wet pussy. He rips at his restraints, as every muscle in his upper body fight to free him. His neck and rippling chest and arms are straining with maximum effort now to free himself so that he can ravage my body right there on the counter.
It wasn’t to be.
“Ahhh…oh god…ahhhh.” I was toying with him now as the buzz of the vibrator increases with the flip of a switch. My body is gliding forward and back with my free fingers contributing to the wetness of my juices, and creating a natural lubrication between my ass and the granite counter top.
His eyes are wild with lust, and when I think he will absolutely lose it, I flick the switch off. I lay there for a while moaning with pleasure, watching as he views my short red strip of hair extending from the top of my clit upwards.
“Now you can have me.” I slide down off the counter and, ripping the condom wrapper with my teeth, I roll it down very slowly being sure to touch every inch of his manhood before mounting his pulsating cock. Oh yes, that feels good. He desperately rams his hips up to meet me as the thrusts lift me up in the air. Furiously licking my tits now, we fuck like wild animals spending our last day on earth.
My whole body tingles from where our bodies meet to the very tips of every last nerve-ending. He explodes into me and his whole body convulses with his held breath, and now wide open mouth gasping for air.
I wrap my arms around him tightly, tasting his salty sweat running down his face and onto his shoulders. My release never comes, but this is about my man. There will be plenty more opportunities to worry about my pleasure coming up, of that I am sure.
Chapter 40
LANE
I sit here, bound in my stool, for what seems like hours. Still feeling the effects of what had just transpired between me and Celia, I slump low in my chair and wait for my breathing to return to normal.
She is looking at me now, feeling the full satisfaction of her game. I would have never guessed that my Celia had this in her. The many layers of Celia Brennan continue revealing themselves to me, and with the uncovering of each layer, my feelings for her grow deeper and deeper.
She unties me slowly, and at my prompting, re-positions herself back up on the counter. No way was she getting out of here without her experiencing her own release. Positioned as she was on the counter, her pussy was eye-level with my face. I pull the brown, soft-padded kitchen stool right up to the edge of the island and grasp her inner thighs with my hands. Bracing myself, I use my arms to swoop her up around her upper thighs to swing her legs over my shoulder, spreading her open wider.
Celia tastes so damn good. Like the best-tasting flavor at Baskin Robbins. Flavor 32 reserved just for me. She is hot and wet as she leans back on her elbows, moaning slightly at first, then becoming louder and louder with each passing minute. I reach up, grabbing a nipple in each hand, massaging and pulling a bit on them just like she likes it.
Her body is rocking back and forth now to meet my tongue, and just like that, she shudders deeply as wave after wave of her orgasm pulses lusciously, consuming her body. I lick her clean just to have another chance to taste her one more time, and am surprised when another wave hits her, causing her to scream out a satisfied shriek of pleasure.
****
After taking a long shower together and pursuing some more intimate shenanigans, we decide to take a coastal sea kayaking tour. We call ahead and opt for the two-and-a-half hour tour. It is still drizzling outside, but we figure we are going to get wet anyway.
Celia had been kayaking up here before, but I had never even been kayaking in the ocean. I have kayaked in rivers and on lakes, but never in the ocean. It sounds like fun, though, and what we both need is a relaxing afternoon. Together.
We take Celia’s car since riding a Harley in the rain is no one’s idea of fun. First, we make a stop at the local thrift store as I only have the work clothes I was wearing when I drove up here yesterday. I hadn’t exactly planned on driving up here to visit Celia, but rather it was a gut reaction after the tough position my father put me in – I just knew that I needed to see her.
I hadn’t mentioned anything to her about my encounter with my father, and I can’t decide whether to tell her right now or not. I want more time to think and consider my options. Besides, Celia is going through some stuff of her own and I feel guilty loading more drama onto her already heavy load.
Pulling up to the store, I picture myself walking out with someone’s ripped old jeans and a tourist t-shirt that says ‘Bar Harbor, Maine’ across the front. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that they had some pretty nice clothes. I stroll out with a nice pair of brown cargo pants, a plain gray t-shirt and an L.L. Bean water-resistant pullover. We may have broken the rules a bit when Celia came into the changing room and helped me adjust and readjust some things. Large and excited things. I wasn’t going to complain since this was her hometown and she didn’t seem too concerned about the rumor mill taking flight.
With that thought, I realize I don’t know very much about Celia’s background. Where had she grown up? Was it here? What was she like when she was younger? It’s funny how you can start to fall in love with someone even though you know very little about them. I was going with the flow － and so was she － and where this ride would end up taking us, neither of us knew. Wow, was I falling in love with her? The word love was not one that I took lightly. I had never used that word with any other woman before, but here I was now thinking of using it with Celia.
Minutes later, we were in downtown Bar Harbor with all of its little shops and restaurants I had remembered from when I was younger. This location was a family favorite of mine, and my mom liked it in particular. Some shops had changed, but then there were others I recognized. It looks like an idyllic town straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Clapboard and cedar siding are the norms, with each shop maintaining its own personality －bright blue with navy trim framed one shop, a green gabled roof with white clapboard siding adorned another.
The main street is lined with galleries, potters, general stores, restaurants, and even a toy store. We pull to the curb when we find a parking space, exiting the car to take a little stroll. Cupping my hands, I press my face against the window of the toy store and am surprised to see toys I remember from my childhood. Metal toy soldiers, wooden trains with tracks, and hand-made puppets appear on the shelves. It sure beats that plastic crap from China that you find at Walmart.
Fifteen minutes later, we return to the car and resume our journey. We park in the post office parking lot and walk across the street to a place called Coastal Kayaking Tours. The sign on the building claims they have been in business for 24 years. A guide takes us through some basic safety tips, and after considering the tandem Kayak setup, we decide to each get our own.
Maybe it was because of the story I told Celia.
When I was in my early twenties, a friend invited me to go kayaking with him on the Hudson River about an hour north of New York City.
We met in the picturesque town of Cold Spring, New York, at the bottom of a long main street dotted with antique dealers, coffee shops, book stores and restaurants. My mom used to go antiquing there once a year on ‘the circuit,’ as she called it. The circuit included many small towns throughout Connecticut and New York, and the antique extravaganza typically took a week or more.
My mom often went with her best friend Shelley, and they basically pre-planned a trip where they would visit as many antique shops as was humanly
possible during that period of time. Cold Spring was one of her favorite spots, and here I was.
The kayaks were brought to the water by pickup trucks pulling large trailers each holding six kayaks. My friend and I shoved ours in the water. The Hudson is a large river, and the water soon proved to be choppy as hell. We paddled south toward the West Point Military Academy that was situated strategically on a high bluff overlooking a bend in the river. Crossing the Hudson River in kayaks is a dangerous proposition, to put it lightly. With the 10 or so people in our group, we had to line up as a chorus line and cross together so that big boats motoring down the center of the waterway could see us. The wakes were large that day as we fought our way across the choppy waters.
Eager to rest and very hungry, we picnicked at the base of a large hill leading up to the academy. When we were done eating, we packed up and readied our chorus line for the trip back across. As I was awaiting the signal to cross, this couple in a tandem kayak t-boned my kayak from the side. In an effort to keep them away, I put my right hand on the tip of their kayak, which was enough to send me over until I was upside down in the middle of the Hudson River.
During safety training, they had told us to rip at the bib tab that covered the hole in the kayak to keep the water out. Rather than do that, I kicked my legs hard and freed myself from the precarious situation. I bobbed up quickly to the surface, and one of the instructors called out to me, “Do not panic…stay calm!”
I wasn’t panicking. I had a life vest on and knew how to swim, so I wasn’t too worried. With the help of another, I had to help lift my kayak on top of another kayak so that they could dump the water out. The whole time I was in the water, the woman kept yelling at me, “Stay calm…do not panic!”
Annoyed now, I looked at her and said, “I’m not the one panicking. You are!” That shut her up. I had to be pulled on top of another person’s kayak and straddled the back until my kayak could be pulled alongside. Then, keeping my balance, I had to hoist myself back into the kayak and then we were on our way.
The two people who t-boned me never apologized and kept paddling around in circles for the rest of the day. Assholes. I decided then and there I would never tandem kayak with anyone.
I need to be in control. My thoughts revert back to this morning where I clearly was not in control, but that was an entirely different situation, and truth be told, it was deeply erotic and I enjoyed it very much.
We shove in at Bar Harbor in a light misty rain. The scenery is breathtaking. We eagerly paddle away and begin our two-and-a-half-hour tour of the coastline. Our guide calls out places like Frenchman Bay, where we snake along the coast and in-between scattered islands. Celia is the first to spot seals on top of a far rocky outcropping. She is a stronger paddler than me. Even though I have more upper body strength, she’s smoother with her strokes and predictably more efficient.
Next, we spot some porpoises swimming alongside us about 50 yards out. I thought they were dolphins, but our guide Ned corrects me. What the heck is the difference, and what’s the porpoise of trying to figure it out anyhow? I make myself laugh.
Ned guides us into a little inlet for lunch. We had made a few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches － which turned out to be delicious － and scarfed down some granola bars. Celia must have made them with love. After some lost sleep last night, our encounter this morning and an hour of paddling, I was admittedly feeling a little tired. That didn’t stop me from asking Ned if Celia and I could take a little walk before we set off for home. She was happy and relaxed now, and that made me feel good.
Something shifted within Celia when she was out in nature. I can’t explain it. It was almost as if someone flipped a switch on inside of her and she found her own quiet, relaxing space in her mind. It was beautiful to witness. She was glowing now, and I was reluctant to break the silence, but I did. “You look so beautiful right now. You do know you glow when you’re out in nature?”
Celia smiles and looks at me, her red hair partially covered with a baseball cap that allows her ponytail to flit out the back. She seems to be studying my face and waiting for me to say something else. Instead, I grab her by the hand and lead her up to the top of the hill overlooking the bay we had just paddled through.
Finding the perfect spot, I sit with my back leaning up against a small pine tree and guide her to come sit down between my legs in a straddling position. I grasp hold of her around her shoulders and clasp my arms out in front of her.
My cheek to hers now, I kiss it gently. I can smell her unique scent and get caught up in the moment, and I can’t imagine feeling more happy and contented. With the strong ocean breeze, some stray hairs blow out from the side of her cap tickling my face and forcing me to scratch my nose.
Shifting a bit, I angle my face toward hers and kiss her sweet lips. She tastes like apricots. Lip toner or chapstick is my guess. Celia doesn’t wear lipstick during the day and I like that about her. She is naturally beautiful and doesn’t need makeup, eyeliner or any of the other extras women use to attract men. I open my eyes to see hers closing, a soft smile on her face. The smell of the ocean, the cool breeze, and holding the lady of my dreams in my arms freeze this moment forever in time.
Just then I catch a faint movement out of the corner of my eye. As I look up, I see a bald eagle soaring overhead, expertly navigating the wind currents. Celia sees it, too, and says softly, “It’s my totem animal. That’s a good sign for me. For us.” I remembered the book I had seen on her shelf and wondered what the connection was.
There had to be some meaning to this.
She has a hopeful look in her eye as she spins and buries her face in my shoulder. We hold each other for a long time, and in this perfect moment, I say the words I have never spoken to another woman. “I love you, Celia.”
She smiles and with no hesitation replies, “I love you, too, Lane.”
Chapter 41
LANE
Shortly after arriving back at Celia’s house, I got a text from Amanda back at the youth center.
Amanda: Tyrelle just showed up. He’s bleeding badly from his lip and his eye is nearly swollen shut.
Tyrelle is a 13-year-old boy who lives with his mom in the projects just outside of the city. He has a younger sister named Maisy, who he watches often while his mother holds down two jobs. She works as a waitress and a housecleaner. Her scumbag boyfriend Victor is in and out of her life. He’s ‘in’ her life when he needs something and ‘out’ when he needs to get a fix.
Lane: Has he seen a doctor yet and is Maisy with him?
Amanda: He came here first. Maisy is not here. She’s with the boyfriend. I’ll have Horace clean him up and see if he needs to go to the ER.
Horace volunteers at the center three days a week for four hours at a time. He’s a paramedic and a Godsend for the youth there. Many of the families have no health insurance and no access to care. Horace deals with the basics like minor illnesses, rashes and, of course, the beatings. They didn’t occur often, but when they did, it was all hands on deck. The majority of the kids came from broken families, and more often than not, a father who was into the wrong shit would dish out a beating. The kids were always on the short end of it.
Lane: You did the right thing Amanda. If he needs the ER have them charge it to me. Otherwise keep Tyrelle there. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Let me know if anything else develops.
I explain the situation to Celia — who has been listening intently the whole time — and although she is disappointed, she completely understands.
“How can somebody do that to a child?” She is visibly upset.
“It happens more often than you think, even with wealthy families.”
Celia picked up on my meaning right away and her eyes widen as her brow furls. “You mean…you?”
I nod dumbly, as I really have nothing more to say.
She hugs me tightly and whispers in my ear, “I’m sorry. I know there was verbal abuse, but I had no id
ea about the physical stuff.”
After a minute, she pulls away and studies my face. She has been silently crying and I wipe the tears away from her face toward her outer cheek using my thumb. Celia even looks beautiful when she cries. My face must express hurt as she sweetly kisses me on the cheek, almost like a mom does when her son skins a knee.
“I need to go.” She nods in acknowledgment.
I gather my stuff and she follows me around, not wanting to let me out of her sight. Making my way to the door, I put my arm around her as we walk together. I hold both of her shoulders with my hands to get one last look at her. Then both hands reach up to her face to cup her cheeks that are warm and smooth. I kiss her long and passionately, then reluctantly pull my lips away.
“I’ll call you when I arrive. I love you.” I smile reassuringly.
She smiles angelically. “I love you, too…be safe.”
Chapter 42
CELIA
He loves me. I know. I can see it in his eyes. But to hear it is music to my ears. Happy. Lane was abused as a child. It explains things. Poor guy. I wish I could take his hurt away.
That son of a bitch. His father was not a good man, not like Lane, thank God. Too many times abuse gets passed down from one generation to the next and I’m glad Lane has no tolerance for it. His father still holds power over Lane that much is clear. What power? How much? I can’t imagine getting struck by a parent. Mine never handled stuff that way. I know people who were abused when they were kids. It leaves a deep emotional mark. How could it not? What mark did it leave on Lane?
What an amazing day we spent together. He just showed up right when I needed him the most. Like a knight in shining armor. Dork. That’s little girl stuff, but still.
