by West, K. D.
But conversation was all that I was good for at the moment. I was still feeling so damaged by Cindy’s departure that I didn’t feel like I could make the first move. We chatted about theatre, about acting schools, about New York. She mentioned that she and her long-time boyfriend had had a huge fight and that she was furious with him. We swapped war stories — her fucked-up alcoholic, my fucked-up bisexual. We nibbled on jambalaya and watched the river slide by, and still I couldn’t make a move.
When the cruise was over, I drove Rachel and her friends back to the hotel, but Rachel said she wanted to explore the French Quarter. Well, that sounded good to me. On foot, we set off into the heart of old New Orleans.
It was just a random Saturday night in March — Mardi Gras was weeks past — but it might as well have been New Year’s Eve on Times Square. I think it was Italian-American night, or some such excuse for throwing a party. Bourbon Street was throbbing with action. We grabbed Hurricanes from a street vendor and wandered through the crowd. A parade rolled noisily by, and one of the supposedly Italian-American partiers — if I remember correctly he was black — tossed Rachel a string of plastic beads. I placed the necklace around her neck. She smiled, and we wandered on through the wild night.
We visited a couple of blues clubs, had another drink or three, caught “The Saints Come Marching In” at the Preservation Hall, and ended up around one in the morning at the French Market, drinking chicory coffee and eating beignets.
It was a fabulous night, but as it wore on Rachel was talking more and more and I was talking less and less. I had had my hand figuratively slapped by Cindy so hard and so often that I was totally incapable of reaching out to this beautiful young woman who was clearly doing her best literally to charm my pants off.
I don’t know what we were talking about — or rather, what she was talking about — but I remember thinking, I should just kiss you and stop you talking. And dying because, for no good reason, I couldn’t get myself to do it.
At just that moment, a young guy at the table next door tossed the powdered sugar they provide for the beignets onto my shirt. I looked at Rachel; her mouth was rounded in a perfect O of surprise. Without even thinking I grabbed the sugar shaker on our table and fired a salvo at our neighbor. For a couple of minutes, confectioners sugar flew like a blizzard of snow.
As I walked Rachel back to her hotel, we were both giddy with amusement and desire. She brushed the remains of the sugar off of my shirt and then linked her arm in mine.
When we got to her room, I started to sweat. I wanted her desperately but I couldn’t make my tongue or my hands work. “I can’t ask you in,” she said. “My roommate is probably sleeping.” She leaned back against her door and became very serious and very quiet for the first time all night. “Do you want some company tonight?”
I willed my thick tongue to speak. “Yes,” I said, “yes, I do want that.”
We wandered silently down to where my car was parked and rode the mile or so to where I was staying. As we entered my room we kissed and I started to shake. I hadn’t actually made love to a woman in three months and combination of need and emotional pain overwhelmed me. God bless Rachel. She took me by the hand and led me to the bathroom of all places. “Let’s take a shower,” she said, and pulled her shirt over her head.
The sight of her ample body broke the spell that Cindy had lain on me in the months that we had drifted apart.
Rachel stepped into the bath, turned on the water and let it run over her long neck and large, full breasts. I stepped in behind her and wrapped my arms around her, filling each hand with a soft, heavy tit.
“Do you like them?” she asked, coyly.
“I love them. They’re so firm.” I kissed my way up the back of her neck and nibbled on her ear.
“Firm?” she laughed. “I wish they were firmer. They’re so…” I rolled her nipples between my fingers and she let out a low moan, “…fluffy…”
She arched her back and wrapped her arms around my neck. The warm water and her soft heat were dispersing the last of my tremors. I moved my hands down to her lithe waist and turned her towards me. Our mouths, hungry, found each other and we pressed up against each other under the hot spray.
Rachel’s hand moved down and circled my cock, which was straining against her belly.
“Mmm,” she said, “nice and thick. Want to show me what he can do?”
“Yes,” I said, yes I will, yes.
We jumped out of the shower, toweled off, and meandered, our mouths locked again, over to the enormous bed. We tumbled onto it, still kissing, still groping. “Nice bed,” she said.
“Nice company,” I replied, grinning.
Her elegant, wide mouth twisted in a wicked smile, and she pushed me back on the bed. She wrapped her long fingers around the base of my swollen cock and wrapped her lips around its head.
I let out a deep groan of pleasure as she smoothly sucked the full length of my seven-inch hard-on into her hot throat. As she began to pull back, running the length of her tongue up my over-stimulated dick, I knew that if I didn’t do something, I’d come in about two seconds — and this was a blowjob I wanted to savor. I started to do some of the deep-breathing relaxation exercises I’d learned in acting classes — and from Dana. When the initial crisis had settled a bit, and I could enjoy the incredible sensations of Rachel’s deep-throating, I reached over and pulled her hips so that her gorgeous, compact cunt was right over my face.
She had trimmed her pubic hair into a tight little landing strip and I flew right in, tongue first. Now it was her turn to groan as I ran my tongue up the length of her labia. The vibration of that moan — her tongue tight around my shaft, her nose nestled in my balls — nearly set me off again, but I kept breathing and focused on pleasing her as much as she was pleasing me. Her lips opened, flower-like, and soon my tongue was flicking over Rachel’s diamond-tight clit. She moaned again and started sucking me faster.
One good thing about having had a bisexual girlfriend — she had built on Dana’s instruction; I was well on the way to being a master cunnilinguist.
Breathing or no breathing, I was going to come soon. Rachel ran her mouth and fist up and down my cock until I felt like I was going to drill a hole in the back of her throat. An explosion began to build up in the space above my balls and suddenly I let loose, a monumental, heart-stopping orgasm. I arched my back like a wrestler, but she wouldn’t break her hold, as I pumped an enormous load down her throat. I screamed into her cunt, which made her begin to shiver and buck. She leaned back, pressing herself into my face, as I desperately sucked and licked her quivering clit. Within a minute, I was gratified to feel her cunt pulse against my tongue and to hear Rachel let loose a scream even louder (and less muffled) than mine. One thing I love about fucking an actress — there’s nothing quiet about them.
With a last moan, she rolled off of me, turned around, and kissed me, hard. We sucked the taste of ourselves off each other’s lips.
As we kissed, her hand found its way back down to my cock. “You’re still hard,” she said in surprise.
I did my best impression of Peter Boyle in Young Frankenstein: “MMMMmmmmmm.”
She laughed.
I kissed her again and started to get off the bed. “Wait!” she whimpered. “Where do you think you’re going!”
“To get a condom,” I said, good boy that I am.
“I’m on the Pill,” she said, pulling me back to her. “Fuck me.”
In those days before I was aware of AIDS, I didn’t have to be asked twice. I rolled on top of her and pressed myself in to that sweet, tight hole that I had been admiring at such close range just a few moments before.
When I had fucked Cindy — back when she was letting me fuck her — she hadn’t wanted me to touch my body to hers. She’d ask me to take her in a sort of push-up position. It was almost as if she would have rather had a di
ldo, but I was the next-best thing at hand. Without even thinking about it, I lifted up on my arms so that my dick was the only part of me contacting Rachel, but she wasn’t having any of that. She pulled me against her, crushing her wonderful breasts against my chest.
Again, we kissed hard. She wrapped her long legs straight out around my hips and locked her ankles above my back. I was still breathing deeply, but it wasn’t a relaxation exercise now, it was pure animal instinct. There was no sound for a good fifteen minutes except the slap of my hips against her squeezing thighs, the slurp of my piston working in and out of her wet pussy, and our feral grunts.
After what seemed like an eternity of bliss, her back arched, I let loose another cannon shot, and I felt her cunt pulsing in another orgasm around my grateful dick. We howled in unison and collapsed.
I’d managed to come simultaneously with Dana and my other partners a few times, though we’d always had to work at it. This had stunned me: simultaneous and spontaneous — perfect.
I pushed up on my arms again, and this time Rachel let me. Her white skin was glistening with sweat, and her black eyes seemed like bottomless pools. She reached up and took a fat drop of sweat from the bridge of my nose and brought her finger to her mouth. We both smiled.
She started to disengage from me, but I stopped her. “Shhh,” I said, touching my finger to those lascivious lips. Slowly, gently, I began to move inside her again.
“Oh, my god,” she exclaimed, “you’re still hard!”
It’s a talent I had discovered with Cindy and some of my handful of other previous sweeties, but had never really had the opportunity to explore. If I’m patient, I can maintain my erection through two or even three orgasms. I pushed into Rachel, feeling our combined juices slurping around my gradually reinflating cock.
“Oh, my god. Nice cock,” said Rachel.
“Nice company,” I replied, and leaned in to kiss the cooling sweat from her brow.
As I continued to fuck her gently and my cock began to get harder, I worked my way down from her forehead to her lips to her long neck to her breasts, tasting the salt of our mingled exertion all the way down.
Pressing myself against her again, I reached around behind her ass, and ran my fingers up either side of her labia, where my cock was moving in and out of her swollen pussy. My come and her juices had been whipped into a kind of froth that leaked from her cunt lips as I slowly moved in and out of her. Stretching my index finger I flicked her clit as it moved against my pubic bone and she gave a small shiver as I felt the pulse of a mini-orgasm squeeze around my dick, which was now fully erect.
I pulled out of Rachel, and she gave a disappointed moan. Her eyes were unfocussed with lust. “Don’t stop!”
“Roll on your knees,” I suggested. In her hungry state, she complied quickly. She leaned her head on her folded arms and looked back at me, a vision of carnal pleasure. I was admiring the miracle of her pale ass waggling in the air, the steam rising from her back. But she didn’t want to be admired. With one hand, she reached between her legs and pulled me dick-first into her dripping cunt.
I fucked her long and slow — none of the athleticism of our first fuck or the urgency of our sixty-nine. Just a nice, deep coupling that seemed to exist out of time. Again I reached around and found her clit with one hand, and eventually reached forward with the other and played with her nipples. Twice I felt her cunt pulse around my dick in small orgasms that brought deep moans from Rachel.
Then, just when I was beginning to think that I might never come, that I might be leaning into her ass, pounding away at her cunt for all eternity — and that that would be all right with me — I felt the familiar squeeze building up deep inside me. I quickened my pace and finally, blessedly, deposited my third load of the night deep inside her.
We both fell onto our sides and my dick finally slipped out of her. Rachel moaned again, and I spooned up behind her, more content than I had ever been. She wrapped my arms around her and we fell asleep as we lay, no covers but each other to keep ourselves warm.
The next morning I was awakened by the sound of the shower running again, which immediately sparked an avalanche of images from the previous night. I was astonished by what had happened. I was astonished by what I had done.
The shower stopped and Rachel stepped out. She toweled herself dry and asked if I had any lotion she could use for her face. Well, as it happened, I had a bottle I used — mostly for jerking off. I told her where to find it in my shaving kit.
As she spread the lotion over her face, her hands, her body, I watched her in the mirror. Pretty soon I was amazed to feel the familiar pressure of my cock hardening.
Rachel’s reflection smiled at me. “Can’t keep that bad boy down, can we?” She sashayed over to the bed, lotion still in hand, and slithered up to where the pillows were still undisturbed at the head of the bed. With a great show of sensual delight, she squeezed a huge glop of lotion between her tits. “Got any other skin-care products you can share with me?” she asked, and squeezed her tits together.
Taking the hint, I straddled her stomach and pressed my shaft between those tits, so much bigger than Cindy’s or Dana’s, so much better defined than Bridget’s or Kelli’s or any of the others, feeling the velvet heat of them, the slow stiffening of her nipples as I rolled my pelvis against her. “They really are firm, you know,” I said with a gasp.
“Fluffy,” she smirked.
“Well, I like them… just the way they are,” I groaned, fucking her breasts. Here was another thing I had never been able to do with Cindy, whose saffron breasts, though lovely, were distinctly A-cup.
“Nice… tits,” I grunted.
“Nice company,” she answered, then leaned down and gave my cockhead a lick.
Each time I pushed up between Rachel’s tits, she began to lick, kiss and suck at my darkening erection. The feeling, combined with the sensation of her tits around my shaft and her hard nipples against my stomach, brought me quickly to the edge. I gave a hoarse shout and a thin jet of come sprayed over her neck and chin.
With a sigh of satisfaction, she rubbed my come into her skin. “Best lotion there is,” she giggled.
Once I’d showered, we dressed and wandered out into the bright New Orleans sunlight. It was almost eleven o’clock — I’d figured we hadn’t passed out until almost four in the morning. We were both starving.
“Let’s go get you some oysters to see if we can keep that amazing cock of yours going,” Rachel joked.
We wandered back down to the French Quarter and found a beautiful courtyard restaurant. No oysters, but wonderful crawfish etouffée. We licked the sauce off each other’s fingers.
Stomachs full and warm with cayenne, we walked, hand in hand, down to Jackson Square and the levee that keeps the river from flooding the old sections of the city — the one that would break years later during Hurricane Katrina. We strolled along the river and found a landing to sit and dangle our feet in the brown, swirling water. Rachel tucked her t-shirt up under her bra strap to get some sun on her stomach. She closed her eyes and began to drift into sleep.
The sight of her, gorgeous and well-fucked, the humid beauty of the day, the transformation that less than twenty-four hours had wrought upon me — the whole of it took my breath away as I sat there, gazing at her. I ran my hand across her belly as the river sloshed by and marveled once again at the whiteness and the smoothness of her skin, and at her ability to both inspire and satisfy my desire.
“You’re thinking about fucking again, aren’t you?” she asked, eyes still shut.
“Yup,” I answered.
“I always like to leave my gentlemen callers wanting more,” she drawled in an exaggerated Southern belle’s drawl. Laughing, I ran my fingers up on to her breast and tweaked her nipple, at which she gave a small squeal. “Fortunately for us both, no matter how much I give you, you still want more!”
At the hotel room, we tumbled onto the big, still-made bed and engaged in a long, leisurely fuck, one befitting a town called The Big Easy.
Once we had come and we lay together, bathed in each other’s heat, I maintained my erection by gently rocking back and forth inside her. We were in a scissors position, lying on our sides, legs tangled, enjoying the languid afterglow of one glorious fuck and the beginnings of another. Rachel’s eyes were closed and she was running her fingers almost absentmindedly over her heaving breasts.
I untangled our legs and disengaged my cock, which was once again rock-hard, bewitched back to life by this amazing nymph.
Rachel gave a soft whimper. My cock, her cunt, her ass were all slick with our mingled juices.
I pressed the tip of my dick against the puckered opening of her anus. Rachel’s whimper became a moan as the thick head popped passed the tight ring of her asshole. We lay there on our sides, exhausted and on sensory overload, as I slowly inched my cock in.
Soon I was moaning too. I’d never felt anything so hot or so tight. I reached around and started playing with Rachel’s clit but she stopped me, murmuring, “It’s too much, the sensation is too dense.”
So I focused on the amazing sensations I was experiencing, thrusting as gently as I could in and out of that spectacular backside. More quickly than I would have expected or hoped, my balls began to tighten and I picked up my pace in spite of myself.
Rachel let loose a wordless shriek as I drove into her, then reached back and grabbed a fistful of my hair. My body seemed to expand to infinity as I thrust into her one last time and felt a hot ecstasy pouring out of me. I was not just coming into her, I felt as if I was coming through her. A truly cosmic orgasm.
We both lay there, drained. My dick softened out of Rachel’s ass with a liquid pop. We both sighed at the uncoupling.
