by Selena Kitt
When he came, his balls tightened and he poured his semen inside her cunt in a series of ejaculations that drained him. He let it happen, emptying himself in her and then collapsing on her.
It took a bit before he regained the strength to lift his body and let her straighten her legs, then he lay on her again and grabbed a fistful of her short red hair. He brought her face close to his and licked her moist lips, tasting her lipstick. He felt her tremble and that sent a delightful shiver through him.
To the extent that he had a plan, things were going according to it. That didn’t happen often in his experience.
She was gasping for air, as overwhelmed as he was.
“Is that the best you can do?” she teased.
“That was just the breaking down the door part of the barbarian invasion. Now that you are prisoner, a ravished maiden, I intend to take full advantage of the opportunity to fuck you in every hole as many times as I can manage.”
She purred softly. “Trevor, you say the sweetest things.”
Chapter 3
Di intended to get to her office early on Monday. Her normal routine was to have quick shower, dress and leave the house after a quick cup of coffee so she’d get in before the traffic picked up.
But this was not a routine Monday. She stayed in bed longer than normal. She needed to recover.
When she finally dragged herself out of bed and looked around her apartment, she took in the chaos the weekend had made of her apartment. Empty wine bottles, a pizza box, the used condoms in the trash, all showed that it had not been an ordinary weekend for her. Best of all, her body still vibrated with the pleasurable sensations of having been wonderfully fucked. Paul had been all over her. He’d stayed Saturday night and through until Sunday night, leaving before dawn that morning. Even leaving he’d been amorous and she crawled out of her bed with her thighs sticky with his cum.
As she showered, she tried to recall the weekend. She needed to know if it was just a wild release of pent up desire, or if there was more to it than that.
When she brought Paul home she hadn’t been entirely sure what to expect. She’d intended to get laid, but beyond that not much was clear. Certainly Paul was a good sort and fun, and attractive, but her short-lived marriage had taught her that those qualities didn’t necessarily mean a man would be a good lover. But Paul had been. He’d kissed her, gotten his hands on her and made her body and spirit come alive. He seemed to know it had been some time since she’d had sex, and before she knew it, he’d hiked her dress up and stretched her out on the couch on her back. He’d kissed her thighs, her belly as he worked her panties down, with her touching his head, not sure what to do. When he had her panties to her knees, he lay on her legs and began licking her pussy, running his tongue between the lips, probing, making her delirious with desire. She melted under his caresses even as her body writhed with pleasure.
He tormented her that way for an eternity before raising up and removing her panties completely. Then he spread her legs apart, resting them on his shoulders as he took up where he’d left off, this time letting his fingers dance in her moist flesh as his mouth assaulted her clitoris. He worked fingers inside her, fucking her with them while he licked her clit, making her thrash. She arched her back and came, digging her heels into his back and running her hands through his hair.
With her body still buzzing from her orgasm, he was up on his knees, undoing his pants, bringing out a lovely hard cock, and holding it, putting on a condom. She watched as he unrolled it, sheathing his cock, and then moved up. She reached for it, burning to have it inside her. Her legs embraced his body as her cunt took the tip of his cock. His eyes were huge and his cock hot as he buried it in her.
She let out a cry as it filled her, as she took a man inside her for the first time in too long. His thrusts were impatient and hard, and she flexed her muscles to caress that hard shaft, wanting to please him, to make him come.
As detached and objective as she tried to be, watching people at the reception had made her acutely aware of how lonely, how horny, she had gotten.
She’d been foolish dodging Paul’s advances simply because giving in complicated their professional relationship. Her nature was to avoid risk, but at that moment, having his cock thrusting into her pussy seemed like the most important thing in the world. She saw that limiting risks also reduced the possible rewards. Like the other women at the reception she’d felt and attraction to the hero, but never in a million years would careful Diane do anything to let him know that. Especially not in public. It seemed too much like what her mother called ‘throwing herself’ at a man, being obvious, which a woman should never be.
Unfortunately, being risk averse and trying not to be obvious often made people think she was a cold fish. Paul was an exception, but then he was an extrovert who enjoyed flirting. He saw inside her and touched her passion.
They spent Sunday exploring each other’s bodies. She sucked his cock and generally acted the whore for him, begging him to fuck her because she saw that asking him gave him pleasure. Then, before dawn on Monday morning, he woke her by snuggling behind her, raising her leg and fucking her from behind one last time. Then he went home to get ready for the week.
They hadn’t talked about anything but passion. They hadn’t said they loved each other, or made promises, or even planned to get together again. She was glad. It was too easy to lie to someone, and yourself, in the heat of passion, and she’d definitely been caught up in her own need and desire. She needed time alone to consider where she was in her life and what Paul meant to her. It occurred to her that although she’d had one-night stands before, this was the first time in her life she’d considered the idea of a relationship with a man that might be based on nothing but sexual attraction. She wanted Paul as a lover, to satisfy her lust. So far she didn’t see him playing any larger role in her life. Maybe that was all she was to him; he might have other women in his life. She knew he wasn’t married, but they hadn’t seen each other socially, and for all she knew he had a girlfriend, but it didn’t matter. If he had someone else, whatever arrangement they had was between them and none of her business—not as long as she only wanted him as an occasional lover.
Tossing these ideas around so pleased and troubled her that she began to view herself quite differently. She was giving herself permission to take a lover, to have a relationship that didn’t go beyond friendship and sex. That was a change that would alter the texture of her life, add a dimension. It would require considerable thought before she could make sense of it, if that was even possible. Was this the change she’d been thinking of, wanting? All she knew was she felt good about things on many levels. Maybe it eluded rational thought, but being well fucked made her feel good about herself.
She floated to her office with the buoyancy that came with her satisfaction.
The building was mostly empty beyond the security staff and she went to her desk and switched on the computer without the need for meaningless conversation with coworkers. She had trouble with chit chat, especially when people who weren’t clients insisted on telling her of their troubles, not so that she could help them, but because they seemed to get satisfaction out of verbalizing their illnesses, family problems or money woes. The urge to spew out so much personal information baffled her.
Her in basket contained a memo sent Friday evening confirmed Paul’s news— she’d been assigned to evaluate the readiness of one Captain Trevor Foster to resume active duty. Her secretary had scheduled him to come in for a preliminary meeting that afternoon.
She sent a text to her secretary, reminding him to get her paper copies of Captain Foster’s record as soon as he came in. Holding printed copies in her hand helped her in some vague way. Partly she didn’t understand how anyone could divide their attention between a computer screen and a client. Her policy was to have her computer off during sessions. She didn’t really like reading the files on screen at all, not that she expected to find much that useful in them in any format. The Army could b
e mind-numbingly consistent: A typical personnel and medical file contain the results of his personality profile tests from his basic training, a few items about his specialty training, promotions, and where he’d been assigned. It would have anything related to disciplinary actions taken against him, and some reports written by various commanders. But there’d be little about the man. There might be some observations by the doctors who’d treated him at the front and at the hospital about the injuries that he received; even then they’d typically say little beyond telling her that he’d been seriously wounded, that he was recovering from his injuries and been ordered to continue physical rehab for x weeks. To cover the collective ass of the hospital staff the Captain would have been referred to her unit for a thorough psych evaluation before being allowed to return to active duty status.
None of it would be useful. Although the personality tests provided a baseline, they were general tests, used more to help in putting a recruit into the right job and not revelations of their character. The boy who entered the Army was likely different now, altered by the life, the training, and combat. All of those would have molded the boy into some other kind of man. That was the point of the training.
Determining if he was stable enough, comfortable with whatever demons he’d encountered on the battlefield, or created for himself in the aftermath, was difficult. She’d have limited time to make her evaluation and wouldn’t have as much of his time and attention as she’d like. He was too valuable as a hero, someone to use to promote the ostensible values of patriotism and military life. The base commander would want to coordinate as much PR work around his medical rehab as he could. Soon enough, Captain Foster would be transferred to another command. Using a resident hero effectively, raising the profile of the military, could hasten General Meredith’s next star. Once Captain Foster returned to active duty, other generals would have his services. So the Captain would be kept busy, showing the flag, making a patriotic speeches, and having lunch with visiting senators and congresspeople to lobby for more money for the military. The last item wouldn’t be official, not in any record, but that was the point of it all. What good was a war hero if he wasn’t appearing in photo ops with important people, or being seen at some ceremony that reminded the world that these men and women of the Army were out there risking their lives for them on a daily basis. The publicity would help remind people in Congress that celebrity patriots could muster votes and sway opinion. And all of this, curiously, was not actually because of what the man had done, but more because the Army had decided to ask the President to pin a medal on his unconscious chest.
Calling up an image of the Captain as she’d seen him at the reception, Diane had to admit that he had a fine looking chest to pin medals on.
The image made her feel warm and sexy; she caught herself and winced. What the fuck was that about? She’d made turning off any personal response to patients second nature and this thought was far too personal. She was slipping. Bad enough that she caught herself acting like a lovesick school girl after one shared glance across a crowded room, but now she found herself thinking of him as a man, in a personal sense, instead of as a soldier who was her patient. The sequence of thinking of that glance recalled the feelings, making her feel more than a little dreamy. She decided that was due to a lack of sleep. Spending the weekend with Paul had been great fun, but had hardly been restful. Of course, neither of them had been looking for restful. Now she would pay the price.
The way her brain grew fuzzy and wistful didn’t bode well. She hadn’t made a good beginning to establishing a proper professional attitude. She’d let matters of the body crawl up her priority list from the dungeon she’d kept them in until now. Paul, spending the weekend in bed with him, had been such a welcome relief. She felt good. Suppressing her own sexual desires, her needs, wasn’t healthy. Denying honest desire made her vulnerable to weaving fantasies about the men she treated.
Now that she had an outlet for her frustrations, she had no excuse. She would keep such thoughts under control. More under control. All she had to do was to pay attention to her own reactions. Like now. Acknowledge the problem and nip it in the bud. Pretending she felt nothing, denying that a man appealed to her sexually, would spell trouble. She congratulated herself with having caught herself and not allowing the problem to blindside her. She was too damn good at her job not to want to identify potential trouble spots well before they raised their heads. This wasn’t a problem but her being strong; she was dealing with inappropriate responses even before she met the man. Captain Foster would never have a clue of his effect on her.
She turned her mind back to the task at hand—evaluating the man. Even without the files in hand, Diane had data to work from. What she’d seen at the O Club suggested that Foster was a womanizer and womanizers tended to be manipulators. He’d know that she would be evaluating him and that, to an extent, his fate was in her hands. That meant it was likely, even probable, that he’d instinctively try to make their relationship intimate. That didn’t necessarily mean sexual, but even if he didn’t come on to her, he’d want to befriend her. In that case, the sexual nuance would be there under the surface—his ace in the hole. A man like that was likely to feel that flirting, appearing to be attracted to her, would make her think better of him and improve his chances of getting a favorable report. If he felt truly threatened, he would possibly try to actually seduce her. In an extreme case, he could become abusive, even violent. Realizing that helped her prepare.
Since she understood, was prepared, it would be easy, right?
No, nothing was easy in her line. People were complex. They played games within games, sometimes without meaning to. She’d have to be careful. That was part of the job, walking a line of interacting with a patient enough to elicit honest feelings and emotions while maintaining the sacred professional distance.
Thankfully, her job was just to evaluate him. That would be a lot easier than if she’d been assigned to provide long-term therapy. Helping him readjust to society, working out whatever problems the trauma induced, would take time and increase the danger of her letting her guard down. An evaluation, by comparison, was relatively simple: If she thought he was too traumatized to return to duty, she would recommend that the Army either give him a medical discharge or send him to a facility that could work with him full time. If he was fine, she said so, and he’d be transferred to an active duty unit. Either way, she probably wouldn’t have him as a patient for more than a few weeks. The Army would be in a rush to decide Captain Foster’s future, and his fate.
Given that she’d now found a charming man to satisfy her sexual desires, an effective outlet for her own passion, everything should go smoothly.
Of course it would.
On Monday morning, in clear light under a cloudless sky, Trevor Foster opened his front door to see a smiling Tina Clarke. She flashed a sparkling smile as he ran his eyes over her with a look that held more curiosity than lust. He had wondered how a young up and coming professional would dress for work. She didn’t disappoint. Her tailored suit didn’t hide a frilled silk blouse open to show a bit of cleavage and give him a view of a tiny gold chain that dangled a small gold heart between her breasts. He admired her effort, and thought it was guaranteed to draw a man’s eyes where she wanted them.
For his part, Trevor Foster was relaxed and ready to get on with the day. Frieda had stayed with him for what remained of the weekend. The woman was wonderfully insatiable and her ideas of fun had left him feeling good. Frieda made it possible for him to pace himself. Although he still couldn’t look at Tina without seeing her as a tasty morsel he wanted to devour, the sense of urgency, the pressure to act was off. Because Frieda was exciting, delicious and available, Tina was no longer essential, just desirable. His goal of getting her into his bed remained a delightful challenge and something to look forward to. The time he spent with her doing the public relations crap would be made more delicious with anticipation.
Watching her, he knew tha
t her primary allure was that he’d never known a woman like her. She was cute, pert, perky, well manicured, and came from a background, a part of his own world that he seldom encountered. He’d never fucked a woman he would call perky and wanted to, just to see what it was like. What would she be like when he undressed and it was just the two of them together, naked? He wanted her, but as the fishermen said, his intention, the challenge was to catch and release. He had no interest in making it more than a few sweaty nights of pleasure.
“Am I early?”
He held the door open, inviting her in. “Don’t ask phony questions. You know you aren’t early. I doubt you’ve ever been anything but precisely on time except when the occasion demands you be late. I imagine you always have impeccable timing.”
She squirmed visibly. He’d managed to give her what, by her lights should be a compliment, and make it sound like a fault. He knew she’d asked because he was wearing sweat pants and a tee shirt. “I just saw the way you were dressed and thought you weren’t expecting me yet.”
Her expectation, her idea of appropriate attire, fitted with his estimate of her perfectly. “I didn’t think I needed to be in dress uniform to go over a schedule. As I understood it, that’s all that’s on this morning. Did I get it wrong?”
