by West, K. D.
I pulled the silken sheath down and it fell around her ankles. I began to pry my fingers under her panties, but she had better ideas. She gently pushed my chest back; off-balance as I was, I stumbled backwards and fell flat on my doublewide low futon.
Smiling hungrily, she stalked across the room, her curvy, feline body offset by the tiny cotton bra and panties that she was wearing. She kneeled between my legs and ran her hand up the tented front of my jeans. When I groaned loudly, she grinned.
She began to yank down my pants — always a good boy, and knowing when to take a cue, I lifted my hips to help her.
When my cock sprang to rigid attention in front of her face, she gave a small “Ooo!” She ran her hand along the length of it, eliciting another groan from me. “Nice and thick. Mmm.” She circled first one testicle and then the other with her tongue, and then licked her way up the stiff length of my shaft.
Now, I’ve said Veronica was small — she was just over five feet tall. And her mouth was absolutely tiny. As she kissed the purple head of my cock, we both realized that there was no way that she was going to be able to get that into her mouth. “Well,” she mused, kissing her way up my body, letting her nipples brush my thighs, “we’ll have to get this inside me somewhere else.”
I started to pull her up on top of me, kissing her throat, but she gasped, “Wait, gotta… mmmm. Gotta get my… mmm… diaphragm.” She detached her hands from where I was trying to unclasp her bra and stumbled over to her handbag, which she’d dropped next to her dress on the floor.
She pulled out the rubber dome and the gel, and then shucked the panties and bra.
I was madly tearing off the remainder of my clothes as she came back across the room. A vision of soft pink curves, she was filling the diaphragm with the spermicide. She held it up, as if offering a toast — or communion. “Will you help me put it in?” she asked, almost shyly.
I grinned. I’d never helped a woman insert a diaphragm, but it sounded like fun. (In the months to come, Veronica would go on to introduce me to the joys of unrolling a rubber as foreplay.)
I pulled her down to lie next to me. Kissing her, I ran my hands along her ribs, around her breasts. One hand wandered up, burying itself in her hair and pulling her forward to kiss me. The other hand explored her soft belly, circling the bellybutton before invading the hairy patch just to the south. For a little woman with extremely fine hair on her head, she had a remarkably bushy forest of pubic hair. I tugged at it gently, and ran my fingers along the outside of her labia majora, feeling the moisture that was seeping from deeper inside. She moaned and spread her legs, giving me full access.
Cindy had been a terrible lover, but trying to get her excited enough to want to get me off too had taught me a lot about how to use my tongue, and how to use my fingers.
I slid my long middle finger up and down the length of Veronica’s outer lips until they began to part, like a flower in a time-lapse movie. When I could feel that the lips were fully spread and the smell of her musk began to permeate the room, I found her clit with my middle finger. She gave an involuntary gasp and almost bit my tongue. Gently, slowly, I circled her nubbin with my finger. When she began to rock her hips, I quickened the pace, changing to a flicking motion and adding my index finger. She began to moan, arching against my moving fingers.
After a minute or two, I drew my fingers away, which brought on another groan from Veronica, one of disappointment. I brought my fingers up to our joined mouths and ran them between our lips. Greedily, we licked the fingers, tasting her honey until they were slick with spit.
When my fingers were good and wet, I brought my hand back down to her vulva and slowly inserted the pointer finger. Her cunt muscles rippled gloriously around my finger, and I began to flex it, pressing up against her G-spot, then extend it, pushing deeper into her. As I continued this motion, I flicked her clit with my thumb.
She began to breathe more and more shallowly as she bucked up against my hand, and a high-pitched keen began to spill from the mouth pressed against mine.
Suddenly, she pulled her face from mine and clasped her thighs around my hand to still it. Reaching above her head, she grabbed the diaphragm and rolled it into the torpedo shape of a burrito. With her other hand, she coaxed my fingers out of her hot moistness. I placed my hand on the back of hers, and together we pressed the diaphragm into place.
When it was in, she pulled me on top of her and wrapped her knees up tightly around my waist. With one hand, she pulled my prick up against her. After poking around for a second, I slid into her and we both moaned. “Getting it in — “ she said.
“ — is the hardest part.” It was a joke from Romeo and Juliet; the actor playing Mercutio had had a difficult time re-sheathing his rapier. We’d all broken up when he said it, and we’d given him unending crap for the rest of the run.
At that moment, I wished him nothing but joy.
Once I was all the way in, Veronica looked up at me and said, “Rose told me how nice and hefty you were.”
I grunted.
“She also told me you sometimes came kind of quickly.”
“Geeze. Thanks, Rose,” I groaned. It was true: I could already feel an explosion building above my balls. I was breathing deeply to try to extend as long as possible the amazing sensation of her tight cunt massaging my prick.
Veronica leaned up and nibbled on my nipple.
At that, I felt the molten rush of the orgasm burst out of me. Veronica fell back and pouted — not cutely this time, but in serious disappointment.
“Shhh,” I said, closing my eyes and focusing on the amazing feeling of flesh around and against mine. Once I had caught my breath, I began to move against her again. “Did she also tell you that, if I’m patient, I can stay hard after I come and keep going?”
A mischievous grin spread across Veronica’s face. “No, she kept that to herself, the silly little girl.”
My cock had lost none of its length and little of its hardness, and with the new lubrication of my come frothing inside of Veronica, I could feel myself getting fully erect again. I shoved myself as deep inside of her as I could go and rocked my pubic bone against her clit.
“Oh, GOD!” Veronica cried, “She was a silly girl!”
As I regained strength, I began to slide my full length out, until just the tip was splitting her lips, before pressing back into her again. She lay beneath me, eyes closed, mouth slight open, body rippling against mine. Slowly, slowly, I picked up the pace, until at last I was riding her hard, my hips slapping against those white thighs. Eyes still closed shut, she gave a high-pitched gasp each time I plunged all of the way into her. Her hair was tangled beneath her head as it thrashed to and fro, and my thrusts began to move us both up the futon. Veronica pressed her palms flat against the wall above our heads to keep her pelvis pressing against mine.
My own hands had been kneading at her round ass as I pounded away. Now I reached around behind her and ran my fingers along her cunt lips to either side of my dick as it pressed into her. With my middle finger I began to gently flick at her clit.
Soon that keening sound was building up inside of her again. Before I could slow down, she arched against me and let out a high “OOOOOOOOOOOO” of pleasure, then collapsed, breathless beneath me.
Once she had caught her breath and her cunt had stopped pulsing around me, I started to move in and out again, but she stopped me, asking me to back out of her. I thought she might need to go pee, but when my dick had come out with a wet plop, Veronica rolled over, grabbed my pillows, put them under her hips, and collapsed on her belly, presenting her plump, small ass and overflowing pussy to me.
As I have said, I’m not one to miss a cue, so I crawled over her and pressed myself back into her cunt, eliciting a lusty sigh from Veronica. Steam rose from her white back as I began to plow into her. Her head turned to one side, resting on her folded arms, she gave c
ontented little sounds of pleasure as I fucked her with everything I had left.
After five or ten minutes, I began feeling the familiar tingle building up in my balls. Now it was my sweat that was dripping down onto her back and butt, which were slick and luminous in the moonlight. With each thrust, I would grunt and she would give a soft “oh” in response.
Finally, I howled and a flood of fire emptied from inside me to inside her. I collapsed, sweaty and drained, onto Veronica’s back. We lay there in the moonlight, sharing the dissipating heat.
We rolled onto our sides and lay there spooning. I buried my face in the wild tangle of hair that sprayed across my arms, and wrapped my arms under her still-heaving breasts.
We talked for a while. I know I asked her about how it was different, making love to a man as opposed to a woman. I know she answered me, but I can’t remember what she said, though I wish I could.
A few hours later, I heard my roommates (and at least one of their girlfriends) leave for work — they’d both graduated the year before, and had the kinds of corporate jobs that measured their time at work by the minute. I lay there, taking in the morning sunlight glowing in Veronica’s hair, the warm roundness of her, the sticky heat of her bottom against my stomach. The sun hadn’t quite topped the sill of my window, but I already felt sunblind. The image of her that morning has stayed with me all of these years.
I stayed there like that for perhaps a half an hour, and I don’t think I’d ever been a whole lot happier, or a whole lot more whole. Finally, as the daylight finally began to creep across the futon, I whispered into her ear, “Arise, fair sun.”
Veronica began to stretch and grumble. With a start she sat up and looked around. “What time is it?”
“Almost 8:00.”
“Shit. I should head up to the job site soon,” she pouted.
I gazed at her, her right cheek blotchy where it had rested on my arm as she slept, her breasts marked with the wrinkles of my sheets. Her fine hair, which had been up in the oh-so-elegant chignon the night before was tangled in a well-fucked rat’s-nest.
She was gorgeous — a debauched vision.
“I’ve dreamed of waking up like this with you ever since that party at your place.” I ran my thumb over her cheek. “Please. I’d like to make love with you one more time.”
Her eyes got large and still. Then she gave a shy smile, leaned down, and kissed me. “Fuck ‘em,” she murmured into my lips. “They can start without me.”
As our tongues intertwined, I felt my morning hard-on stiffen in earnest against her thigh. There was something I wanted to do before I took care of that, however.
I kissed my way down Veronica’s neck, nibbling on first one pink eraser of a nipple, and then the other. When she began to give little gasps as I alternated between my lips and my teeth, I nibbled my way down to her bellybutton.
Veronica lay back, playing with her breasts, letting her legs splay wide. I pulled at her matted pubes with my teeth, drawing a long hiss from my new lover.
Once I had worked my way down between her legs, I took a moment to examine her newly awakening cunt. It was still closed, and the lips were marked with the dried remains of the previous night’s passion. Have to clean that up, I thought.
I ran my tongue up the length of her labia, and she hissed again. Sitting back slightly, I blew softly on her and was treated to the beautiful sight of her cunt opening to me, pink and pretty as a rose. Marked with dew, too — I’d begun to elicit the signs of new excitement already.
I hadn’t really given myself the opportunity to examine her cunt the night before, and so I was struck by what a small, delicate fold of flesh it was that had brought me such astonishing pleasure. The inner lips were small and fine, peeking out from her labia majora like a lace cuff from a sleeve; the clit was barely visible — and yet I knew just how sensitive it was.
Leaning back in to her, I kissed that jewel of flesh and sucked it into my mouth.
I’d thought that I had heard the full range of Veronica’s voice during the run of Romeo and Juliet, from high sighs of desire to low growls of anger, but the deep groan that I elicited from her was a sound I’d never heard before, not even the previous night. “You like?” I asked.
“I like,” she answered, managing to sound both breathy and husky at the same time. Her fingers clenched in my hair, and I took the hint, clamping my mouth onto her pussy, tasting it, and tasting it again.
I’ve always liked pleasing my lovers with my mouth. I love being able to taste them, I love feeling their excitement growing against my tongue, I love having my hands free. I stroked the sides of her breasts, causing her to arch.
I love being able to watch her whole body tremble with passion, all because of what I’m doing to her with the smallest touch of my lips, my tongue, my fingers.
Veronica’s belly was trembling; her nipples stood hard and dark pink beneath my fingers. “Oh… Oh… Ken…”
I hummed into her cunt, and she writhed; I could feel her muscles beginning to squeeze and flutter around my tongue. I already recognized the high sighs that announced her impending orgasm, and so I began to settle into the pleasure of the endgame, sucking and licking at her clit, pinching at her nipples....
Just at the point where I was sure she was about to explode, her fists, which had been pulling me in, pushed me away. “Want... to come... you inside...” she gasped, and yanked me up the length of her body with one hand while the other grabbed for my hard-on and pulled it straight into her. Her legs pulled hard against my ass, and we both screamed. I felt her pussy pulse around me. “Ooo!” Her eyes were half lidded as I began to fuck her in earnest, lovely breasts bouncing with each stroke, her whole upper body flushed pink.
I held myself up on one hand, while with the other I reached between us and began to press against her clit with my thumb, so that my thrusts and the rocking of her pelvis kept her cunt tumbling back and forth over the edge of orgasm. “Ooo!”
“Come for me,” I moaned.
Those blue eyes, which had been almost closed, flew open. “Ooo!”
Veronica and I have remained friends over the decades, attending each other’s wedding (each to someone else), doing other shows together, always close — but never closer than at that moment. Over the following months (a nice summer affair for sure) we made love hundreds of times — on my futon, in her bed, center stage at the outdoor theater at which we’d met (well after midnight), for hours working off her anger while her ex was having a party in their shared back yard, on a hill overlooking the ocean while watching the sunset, even once with Jenny (a disappointment for us all, unfortunately) — and we blew each other’s brain repeatedly, but I never got her to quite such a state of rolling orgasm again, her whole body quivering, her thighs squeezing my hips spasmodically.
Voice tremulous and husky, she gasped, “Ken... Wanna feel, wanna feel... You asked... You come so hard, you asked, no girl can... Spray inside me, Ken, wanna feel a Ken come, Ken — “ She clamped down hard with her cunt, though her eyes remained locked on mine, and suddenly I felt as if I knew how a star must feel when it goes supernova: pleasure and heat seemed to shrink the whole universe to an infinitely small point within me, and then, just as suddenly, to explode infinitely out.
When my vision cleared, I was collapsed on top of Veronica. Both of us were panting, gasping for air. Arms and legs, she pulled me tight, and I curled around her. “Fuck. Fuck.”
“Uh-huh,” she agreed airlessly. “Uh-huh.”
As our heartbeats slowed and breath returned, but while I was still inside of her, I leaned back, taking in her glorious, fuck-flushed face and wild hair. “You... like?”
Veronica’s face split in a triumphant grin. “Like? Oh, fuck, yeah. Fuck, yeah, I like.”
A Joy Forever
A Sneak Preview of K. D. West’s novel
of sexual initiation and sexu
al healing
I am kneeling between Ken’s thighs. Though he is still clothed, I am naked. It seems appropriate; he has made me feel naked since the day I walked into his Beginning Acting class five years and a lifetime ago.
“Allison,” he murmurs, his fingers running through my hair.
“Yes, Ken,” I say, unable to disguise the tremor that his voice, his caress raise in me. My eyes remain locked on the raised front of the button-fly jeans just inches before me.
“Tell me what you want, Allison.” His strong, warm voice is low, and I tremble all the more, knowing what he wants me to say.
“I want to heal you, Ken,” I whisper, my voice high, thin, and warbling.
I can hear the smile, even as the lump in his jeans seems to grow, to rise. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says, “you do that every day that I’m blessed enough to see you.”
My heart fills my throat, leaves me breathless.
“But that’s not what you want right now, is it, Allison.” Not a question, not really: he knows me, knows me better than I do myself in so many ways, and I am raw clay before him, the girl he made and remakes, just by looking at me. By desiring me. By speaking to me in that low, throaty voice so full of love, desire, and control.
“N-no, Ken.”
“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” His fingers trace a silver-soft line down from my ear to my collarbone, and from there to the nipple that aches at the tip of my breast. With middle and forefinger, he gives my nipple the gentlest of pinches, sending a spark all of the way to my toes, back up to the crown of my head, and then down into my crotch, which flowers open, so that I can feel the cool air of the room flowing over then. “Whatever you want, you can have. If you ask.” There is power in words, he always says, and I love the power that his words have over me, that my words give me over him.
