by Louisa Trent
Sera smacked her lips together. All that masculine power! She couldn't wait to feel his thrust inside her.
From the waist down she was nude, the white tank top was somewhere around her neck, and her big strong husband was gently opening her legs.
Things were looking good.
It was dark in the room, but she could tell that her husband was somewhere directly in front of her. Disappointingly, she realized he was still fully clothed-his denim-encased leg was brushing the outside of her bare legs as he hovered over her, close enough for her to pick up his scent again.
She wanted to tell him how much she loved the way that he smelled, but she couldn't quite bring herself to put the thought into words. There was the rejection factor to consider. He might, after all, still leap from the bed at the last possible minute and run shrieking from the room. Or worse yet, yawn with apathy.
In the elevator, under starkness of artificial light, Tomas had seen her body for the very first time. The surveillance equipment seemed like a third person, and the clicking lens made her feel bashful. Now it was dark, and she was still feeling bashful.
Lying there on the bed, she was too afraid to move naturally, too afraid that if she did, she'd do something really, really, incredibly stupid, sexually speaking, and he'd give up on her.
Once before on a wedding night, she'd been turned down for sex-
In order to continue doing the missionary work she's loved, she'd needed to stay in India. In order to stay in India, she'd given up a precious part of herself to a sterile marriage. And that precious part of her nature had withered up and dried like a spent flower blossom. No matter how much she'd loved her work, it hadn't compensated for what she had sacrificed. Slowly but surely, she had begun to feel dead inside-
This new Sera, the one who had a nickname, the one who wore jeans, was tired of feeling dead inside.
Reaching up over her head, she yanked her last remaining garment, the white cotton tank top, over her head.
She was now naked. Totally naked. Stark naked. Blissfully naked. Naked as the day she was born.
New, new, all of this was so new to her! She was new too. Reborn.
Sex. It was all due to sex.
Work-callused hands went to her hair, lifting the weight of it, running fingers through it. Now her hair was lifted. To a masculine face? To an arrogant nose?
She heard Tomas breathe, not a normal shallow breath, either. This was a tremendous inhale.
“I've wanted to do this since that first day, when you tried to put a polish on me. You smell like nothing I've ever smelled before. Like raindrops on flowers.”
Raindrops on flowers...What a pretty and romantic thing to say! It was the kind of bedroom poetry a woman hungers to hear, and the words fell from the lips of a man whose rough edges she was supposed to smooth out. He sounded plenty smooth enough already.
Of course, he'd had plenty of opportunities to rehearse lines like that, ample occasions to perfect their delivery. There were some decadent stories going around town about Tomas, about sex parties that lasted ‘till dawn, about his swapping and sharing and multi-partnering the most gorgeous of women, about his breaking taboos she'd never even heard of nor could imagine even after hearing of them. And she was in bed with him. Lying stiff as a board.
She was not a vain woman, had no particular qualms about nudity, but how could she ever compete with those kinds of decadent stories, those kinds of gorgeous women?
She couldn't, and so she turned her face to the wall, invoicing all her faults, enumerating them in her head, one by one, as Tomas fingered her hair, not touching her body at all. After seeing what he was getting in the elevator, he was probably too bored to bother.
“Sera, your hair...I gotta see your beautiful hair all loose around your shoulders in bed.” He whispered close to her ear, “I'm gonna go hit the light switch-”
Nothing doing! Not when she had him right where she wanted him.
Terrified that Tomas was only being kind, that the lights were just an excuse for him to leave, terrified that once he left he might not come back, she cried, “No, don't go! I-I don't want any lights.”
“Okay-” he answered, pulling back, voice uneasy, wary.
She knew it! He did want to leave! He was only being kind. The lights were only an excuse.
How could she ever have hoped to excite Tomas?
The man rubbed shoulders, and other body parts, with exotic dancers, for goodness sakes! He could have any woman he wanted, and did. Often. Tomas was only in bed with her now because she had coerced him into having sex. Would she never learn? She had done much the same thing with Matt and with disastrous results.
“I've changed my mind,” she told Tomas, letting him off the sex hook. No sense forcing him to do something he obviously didn't want to do.
“I wouldn't have to put it inside you,” her husband said, his hand skimming her body. “You know what I mean?”
He cupped her breasts in his big, capable hands. “Know what I mean, Sera? Just like in the elevator. We could do it like that-”
Her back arched, and she moaned through her mouth, the noises she made taking her by surprise.
“Know what I mean, honey?” he said, stroking the centers of her breasts to exquisitely sensitized hardness.
She thought she could let Tomas off the sex hook, but she found that, selfishly, she couldn't give up what he was doing. It just felt too good.
Her distended nipples were caught, then pinched. Not hurtfully, but the potential for a pleasured-pain was there.
She wanted it. For the first time in years, she was starting to feel.
Her vagina grew moist. When his hand moved between her thighs to cradle her vulva, she held her breath. The outer folds of her labia were separated with two large fingers. A digit-the index?-slid up into her vagina, penetrating the slick passage, just as he had done in the elevator. A shiver took hold of her and wouldn't let go.
“I can tell it's been a while for you,” he said, slowly. “Your cunt is wet, but tight.”
She didn't mean to, but she gasped.
His touch was immediately withdrawn. “Listen, I know you're nice. Refined. And I know I'm not. That's what I keep telling you, why I didn't want this to happen.” He sighed. “I use crude words, Sera. I think crude words. Now, I'm gonna do some things to you, sex things, that maybe you're not used to having done. And I'm gonna say some things too, sex things, that maybe you're not used to either. If that's gonna offend you, better speak up quick.
“But you know something?” he interjected before she could do any of that speaking up quick that he wanted her do. “I don't think you are offended. I think you like my crude language, Sera. And I think you like what I do to you too.”
He was right: The crude word had excited her, not offended her. She'd gasped in pleasure, not outrage. And she very much liked what he had done to her so far.
She'd been married for five years, a widow for a year. Because of a date with a candle, she no longer possessed proof of her inexperience, but she was inexperienced. She'd never had sexual intercourse. Her marriage had not been consummated. That's why she was tight. But to tell Tomas so would show disloyalty to the memory of her husband, it would expose the lie that was their marriage-
“I need release, Tomas,” she grated out the words; they were so difficult to speak! “There's a knot in my belly that won't go away. I know you're good at this. At sex,” she panted like an animal in heat. “Please! Treat me as you do all your other women. That's what I want. That's all I want. Say whatever you please, any words you'd care to use. And...and do what you want too. Everything you want. Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it. I won't be offended.”
“You won't?”
“No, I won't.”
“So if I were to tell you that I'm going to get up out of the bed and turn on the lights so that I can see inside your pussy, you'd be fine with that? Like, I wouldn't burn my hand on your blush if I did that to you?”
“I'd be fine with that.”
He kissed her lips, softly, delicately, romantically, his gentle touch belying his rough language.
The mattress shifted as his weight was lifted, and then the lights were flicked on, and he was back on the bed with her.
“Even your toes are rosy,” he teased as he spread her thighs. “And I don't understand why. You've got the prettiest damned cunt, Sera.”
She groaned. “Oh, dear...”
“I think I understand what you want from me now, and you'll get it too. Everything.” He took her lips, and this time his tongue was in her mouth, lustily sampling the interior.
“We'll do it all, Sera,” he said, breaking the kiss. “No sheep, though. Those rumors about me and barnyard animals are false. They're too wooly, even for a depraved degenerate like me.”
No bestiality?
She could live with that.
“But everything else, if that's what you want from me, that's what we'll do. Okay?”
Wanting Tomas's lusty mouth again, she nodded her head in happy agreement.
He gave it to her, open and hot, the heavy thrust of his tongue against her throat, his fingertips gently, reverently, skimming her face, tracing the outline of her jaw.
She thrust up her breasts like a hussy in the hope that he would take the hint and touch her there again.
“Oh, Sera,” he said, and chuckled. “I'm gonna fondle your tits, don't you worry. I'm gonna have my hands all over you before the night is through.”
And then he was searing her with his kisses, branding her with them. Not just on her mouth. Everywhere. She didn't know a man could kiss a woman like that. His mouth was open, his tongue sipping the perspiration and salt from her skin. He kissed his way down her throat, and she giggled when he reached her breastbone because the whiskers on his jaw tickled, and she hadn't expected that sensation.
But when his mouth attached itself to a nipple and sucked noisily on the distended flesh, her giggles ended. Raising her arms, she threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling the long ends free of the leather tie he always wore to keep it neat.
As his teeth attached themselves to the hardened tip of her tit and pulled, actually biting the end, she yanked his hair and screamed.
It felt so good! What he was doing, the roughness of it. Even the slight pain of it, felt so good. She wanted to tell him never to stop. She wanted to tell him to mark her skin, to leave teeth marks behind so that she'd have a reminder of this night tomorrow.
But already the silky strands of his hair were slipping through her fingertips as Tomas, finished with her breasts, moved lower. His mouth slid down to her belly, his tongue jabbing in and out of her bellybutton.
His whiskered jaw rubbed back and forth on her pelvis, his rough beard catching on her pubic hair.
He kissed the inside of each thigh, and then he was there, his mouth on her labia, his tongue at her core, penetrating the passage first, before seeking and finding the small bump at the top of her sex.
At the first exquisite lick, she bucked. She was that sensitive there! Even when bathing, she avoided that small scrap of flesh. And now Tomas's tongue had found her terrible weakness and he was feeding the secret hunger inside her.
Her vagina was spasming. Sobbing and weeping, she was coming apart.
She came on a scream.
While she was still panting, the last tremor not even subsided, in her greed she demanded, “More! I need more. Please, Tomas, come inside me.”
Lifting his head up from between her legs, he licked his lips. Then coming up over her, he kissed her.
She tasted herself on his lips! Smelled herself too. Horrified, she pulled away.
“That's how your honey tastes,” he said, and grinned wickedly.
Shocking!
Wonderful too, because Tomas was still licking his lips as he smiled into her wide eyes. He liked it! He liked her smell, her taste.
“Roll over onto your belly,” he said next.
She hesitated.
“Do it, Sera,” he said with that dominance that drove her wild.
She scrambled over onto her belly, as he had said to do, flattening herself on the sheets.
“Baby, you ain't acting like you want me,” he said, his voice colored by something she didn't understand.
Had she done something wrong already?
She didn't know what she had done, why he was displeased with her. She'd have to ask to find out.
“Please, Tomas, just tell me what you want me to do.”
“What I want is you doggie-style. Or do missionaries only do the missionary?”
Her face grew warm in embarrassment. She didn't know about other church people, but this missionary had never done anything.
To eliminate the threat of discovery, she went to all fours, a fast reshuffling of her body lest he become disgusted over her sexual clumsiness.
“You're my husband, Tomas. There's nothing I won't do, no position I won't agree to,” she told him.
He had undressed while waiting for her to reposition herself. At her words, he climbed up on top of the bed and went behind her.
Tomas was all healthy manhood, the thickness of his sex ample evidence of his virility. She felt the extension of his penis, the glans butting her upper thigh, his maleness so prominent that she went weak with anticipation at its entry-
Until she was told, “Bring your bottom up.”
Her bottom was large. She didn't want to bring it up anywhere, not in polite conversation, and not with a man who'd seen his share of small bare bottoms.
But she wanted him. She wanted this.
Putting aside what little vanity she did have, she brought her big bottom up, raised it right up, and straightened her arms.
The agony of full disclosure! He now knew the broadness of her hips, the generous proportions of her rear end. It was not something she could hide from his eyes any longer, or from his roaming hands.
Nor could she hide the way her breasts jiggled. She wasn't large on top, but the sheer force of gravity caused them to swing back and forth.
In that animalistic position, head lowered, bottom raised, breasts toppled, she pleaded for relief, “Please, Tomas?”
At her plea, he reached beneath her to handle the hardened tips of her swinging breasts, and the moisture that had pooled inside her vagina, beaded, then dripped down the inside of her thighs in a pearled parade.
He was kissing her skin now, mouthing her skin, licking her skin from nape to backbone, his tongue cooling her hot skin, bathing away her perspiration on a course begun by his hands, hands that were now filled with her buttocks.
As he kissed the base of her spine, he opened her. In back. He spread her bottom cheeks. He was kissing his way inside! He actually tongued her anus.
Knowing her husband's reputation, she'd expected less than gentlemanly sex. Shocking sex, yes. Even kinky sex. Absolute possession? No, she was not prepared for that. She wanted it. Absolute possession, and nothing less, was what her body demanded. “Come inside me. I don't care how.”
His mouth lifted, his hands tightened on her hips. “Frottage only.”
At first she didn't understand what he meant. But then she'd recalled from her high school French that frottage came from the verb ‘to rub'. Considering how they were engaged, it didn't take much interpreting to figure out that frottage meant the act of rubbing for the purpose of attaining sexual gratification.
Wanting more than rubbing, she started to argue. “But-”
“Un-un. No butts either,” he said, and chuckled.
How could he tease at a time like this?
Obviously, he wasn't feeling the intensity of what she was feeling; he was not as fully involved in this as she.
But she could argue no more. His penis-excruciatingly hot, unbelievably thick, devastatingly long—had started to rub back and forth between her anus and vagina, smooth strokes across her perineum that started her trembling all over again.
The pleasu
re, oh the unspeakable pleasure! There were no words for what she was feeling.
Her forehead plopped onto the pillow.
“Yes,” she screamed breathlessly. “Oh, yes. Yes. Yes!”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Wouldn't'ya just know it? Tomas mused, kissing along Sera's beautiful spine as his cock sawed back and forth between her legs. Just when a guy starts wanting to live down his reputation, he finds a woman who wants him to live right up to the rumors.
Which were far from true. He liked pussy, and there'd been women, lots of women, but not hundreds of women. And he hadn't done most of the things the good folks of Fenton said that he had.
He was quickly leaving the world of vanilla sex behind, because if there was ever a woman ripe for sexual adventuring, it was the missionary lady.
Why?
Had to have something to do with her grief, with the way she'd lost her husband. Sera needed an escape valve.
That would be him.
He'd already decided he'd be there for her. For talk, if she needed to talk. For sexual release, if that's what she needed. He sure as hell wasn't about to make any judgement calls on the appropriateness of one method over the other.
Sera needed a way to let go of her sorrow. As far as he could see, there was no right or wrong way to do it. Anything goes. The trick was in giving her what she wanted, no more, no less, while still retaining control of the situation.
No problem. Whatever she needed, he'd provide. He'd even reconsider the damn sheep, though in his opinion animals belonged in the corral, not in the bedroom. Sera was gonna get all the sexual adventuring she needed. He'd go out to one of the sex shops in Fenton and buy some toys tomorrow. Hell, he didn't care how many batteries the damn things needed; he was going for broke.
Tomas moved his aching cock back and forth across the plump lips of Sera's pussy, back to front. He was up on his knees behind her, a position where control is easier for a man to maintain. Even so, it wasn't easy keeping the pre-come-soaked head of his dick out of Sera's slit.
Frankly, it was killing him. Frankly, he wanted to fuck sweet Sera until she begged him not to stop.
