


Proud Mary

by slyc_willie



Category: Exhibitionist & Voyeur
Published: 2007-02-18
Updated: 2007-02-18
Packaged: 2017-04-27 23:36:13
Chapters: 1
Publisher: literotica.com
Story URL: https://www.literotica.com/s/proud-mary
Author URL:
https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=748325&page=submissions
Summary: Mary likes having some fun in the sun.
Erotica Tags: Cheating, Mountain, Nature, Oral Sex, Outdoors, Swallowing,
Water
Average Rating: 4.57






        Proud Mary


_We're going to start off soft . . . and end . . . rough._  
  
***  
  
I waited within the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of her once again. I knew
she came to this particular spot in the stream every few days or so. It was
right where the lonely tributary made a wicked bend on its way down the
mountain and was thus hidden by the tall firs that flanked both banks. There
was a large, rocky boulder right in the middle of the stream, looking like it
had been sitting there for ages.  
  
And it was to the boulder that she always went, clad in her tight denim
shorts, sturdy hiking boots, and whatever top she had chosen for the day.  
  
Man, she was beautiful. Not model-gorgeous with a curvy, svelte figure and
perfect cheekbones, and in fact, she was a little on the skinny side, with
just a little roominess in her hips and an endearing softness to her belly.
But she had luscious brown hair with sun-kissed highlights, firm, if small,
breasts, and round, plump cheeks. As much as she apparently loved being
outdoors, she did not have much of a tan, just lots of freckles. Freckles had
always been a weakness of mine. Perhaps because my first girlfriend had been a
redhead.  
  
It had been two weeks since I had first seen her, and that had been by
accident. I had recently purchased a cabin on the mountain as a sort of
hideaway, to get some writing done in solitude away from the city. When
frustration and cabin fever intruded upon my creativity, I took to wandering
through the foothills. And that was when I spied her.  
  
Naked and reclining upon the rock in the stream like some modern-day Venus,
she was stunning. The sun glowed upon her skin, making it golden, her nipples
stiff and dark, the trimmed thatch of light-toned pubic hair wispy and soft.  
  
She did not do anything but lay there that first time, with a small smile on
her face, her cheeks and neck a little rosy. She'd had the look of a woman who
had just had an orgasm. Then she had dressed and left, never knowing I was
there.  
  
The second time was three days later, and this time, I was waiting for her, as
I had been every day since. I watched her strip down and masturbate upon the
rock. The scene was inspiring, captivating. I went back the following day, and
the next, and the next . . . I caught her twice more as she pleasured herself,
and the fourth time, I thought she may have seen me, for she sat up suddenly
and looked my general way, her fingers still pressed to her pussy. But then
she had leaned back and finished what she had begun.  
  
Yet now, four days later, here I was, waiting for her once more. Coming out
with the hope of catching my nymph's delicious display of exhibitionism had
become a daily routine that consumed two or three hours out of my day. Not
that I minded; I always seemed to feel an explosive burst of creativity after
watching her. This nameless sprite had become my inspiration, it seemed.  
  
It was well past three o'clock, the time she normally came down along the
little path through the trees. I figured she wasn't going to show, so I leaned
against the tree I always hid behind and lit a cigarette. I started to head
back through the trees when I heard a faint splashing behind me. I looked back
. . . .  
  
And there she was. Coming out of the trees at the edge of the stream, same
denim shorts, same leather hiking boots, and a loose yellow blouse. Her hair
was in pig tails this day, set back high on her head. She was smiling as she
always was, tilting her head back to soak up some of the sun. She made her way
to the rock, balancing upon stones, keeping her equilibrium by fanning her
arms out.  
  
She climbed atop the boulder, facing away from me, and immediately started
unbuttoning her blouse. I watched her avidly, my heart beginning to pound in
my ears. I think I even held my breath in anticipation of what I was about to
see.  
  
The blouse fell to her feet upon the rock, revealing her lean, muscular back.
She really did have a sexy back, let me tell you. I loved the way her freckled
skin shimmered just so with a light sheen of sweat, the play of muscles under
her skin like the movement of sexy serpents. Her hands slid up her body to her
breasts, moved back and forth as she massaged them. I found myself licking my
lips.  
  
She made the unmistakable motion of unzipping her shorts, and bent slightly at
the waist, beginning to slide them down off her hips. But just as the cleft
between her cheeks was revealed, she paused, turning her head this way and
that, sniffing the air. I saw her face in profile, long school-girl tails of
luscious brunette hair swaying beside her face. She frowned, sniffed again.  
  
Oh, shit, I thought, remembering the cigarette I held. I cursed silently,
dropped it to the ground, mashing it with my foot. When I glanced up again,
perhaps two seconds later, my slender, freckled goddess was facing me,
standing with her hands on her hips and head cocked to the side. She had a
smirk on her face.  
  
"Watching me?" she asked.  
  
I blushed deeply. "Look, I'm sorry," I said, taking a brave step out from the
trees. "But, I mean, come on . . . you're out here in the middle of a stream .
. . ."  
  
"Yeah. So?"  
  
I tried not to stare at her upturned breasts. _Damn_. Those nipples looked
hard enough to poke through the rock she was standing on.  
  
I fixed her a look. "Didn't you think you might get caught?"  
  
The woman bit her lip. I had always wondered about her age; she could have
been anywhere from 25 to 35. No obvious wrinkles, but hers was definitely not
a girl's body.  
  
"Of course," she said, her bright hazel eyes glittering. "And now I am."  
  
I took another step, feeling a smile stretching my face. "And, you're not
running," I said.  
  
She gave me a cocky look. "Why would I run? You're not gonna attack me, are
you?"  
  
My eyes drifted over her nearly-nude body, noting the flaps of denim at the
front of her shorts as they angled out toward me. I could just make out the
top of her soft bush. "That's not exactly the first thing that came to mind,"
I said, moving a little closer. We were about fifteen feet apart now.  
  
"And what _was_ the first thing that came to mind?" she asked teasingly. Her
fingers fluttered along the edges of her shorts, with the tantalizing
implication of pushing them down . . . or the threat of zipping up.  
  
I looked up to her face. "Watching you," I said.  
  
Her eyes smoldered slightly. Her right hand slipped inside the 'V' formed by
her open shorts, touching and lightly stroking her silky down. "Watching me do
what?"  
  
I took another step closer, balancing upon slick rocks. My cock was growing in
my shorts, bulging against the material. I noticed the woman's eyes darting
down to it. Her lips curled at the effect she was having on me.  
  
"Pretty much just what you're doing now," I answered.  
  
Her eyes darted back to mine. "You mean you wanna watch me play with my
pussy," she said.  
  
My cock twitched uncomfortably beneath the khaki fabric as I neared. Less than
ten feet between us now. Water flowed over my boots. I swayed slightly on my
feet, the rush of water almost making me slip. "Yes," I said.  
  
The woman's features darkened slightly with blush. "I want you to watch me,"
she said, and let her shorts drop to her feet, revealing her pussy.  
  
I was instantly distracted by the sight of her naked sex, and lost my
equilibrium. My foot slipped on an algae-slicked rock, and – "Oh, shit!"  
  
The world tilted rapidly to my right before being submerged in water. I
slammed against the rocks in the stream, grunting, taking in water, sputtering
and clamoring for something to hold onto. I managed to keep from sliding down
too far in the stream by latching onto a rock, and lifted my head above the
water.  
  
She was there, right over me, hands grabbing onto my sweater. Upside-down,
with my head just above the water, I found myself staring directly at her
wide-open pussy as the woman squatted over me. Just inches from my face, I
could see every detail: the light adornment of fuzz on her vulva, the thick
barrel of her clitoris within its hood, the curtain-like lips flaring out and
down, showcasing the tight, oval opening of her vagina.  
  
And her musky scent . . . sweet, rich, tangy. I reflexively took a deep
breath, saturating my senses with her aroma.  
  
"You okay?" she asked, diverting my attention from her pussy.  
  
I tilted my head, looking at her upside-down face, smiling down through the
valley between her small peaks. "Oh, I'm just fine," I said.  
  
She rolled her eyes, and I sat up in the water, then got to my feet with her
help. My sweater was soaked, making it heavy, the sleeves stretching down
several inches past my hands. I slapped them against my thighs, making the
nude nymph before me giggle.  
  
"Maybe you should get out of those," she suggested.  
  
"Oh, you'd just love that, wouldn't you?" I quipped, struggling to push up my
sleeves.  
  
She bit her lip. "Actually . . . yes."  
  
My eyes met hers, finding more than just exhibitionistic arousal and mischief
there. Here we were, two strangers, her naked save for her boots, and
suggesting I join her.  
  
I arched an eyebrow in interest.  
  
She chuckled. "Well?"  
  
I had never done such a thing before, had never even contemplated it. Here I
stood, in the middle of the stream in the midday sun, a naked woman before me
urging me to remove my clothes. I was intimidated, embarrassed . . . aroused
and excited.  
  
The clincher came when she crossed her arms over her small, spherical breasts.
She gave me an expectant look. "Well? Take it off, and . . . maybe we can have
some fun, or . . . keep it on and turn around."  
  
I wasn't about to be denied a chance at sampling what I had thus far only
seen. With her ultimatum, I was left with only one real choice . . . a choice
I picked as I started to pull up the soggy hem of my sweater.  
  
She laughed. "No, not here," she said, then nudged her head toward the large
boulder behind her. "On the rock."  
  
I gave her a look. "You want me to . . . to—"  
  
"Yes."  
  
I regarded her a moment, and realized she wasn't going to give. Grumbling
under my breath, I looked to the rock. _Fuck it. If I'm gonna do it, might as
well go all the way . . . ._  
  
My nymph's eyes watched me as I gave a resigned sigh and trudged through the
water toward the rock. I climbed atop it, realizing that, at the angle and
elevation the boulder provided, anyone standing alongside the stream for a
good quarter-mile up or down would have an unobstructed view of me. That
realization was both thrilling and daunting.  
  
I faced her as she stepped up to the edge of the rock, settling her hands upon
it, arching her back so that her incredibly stiff nipples were pointed right
up at me. Droplets of water glistened on her thighs, a few on her abdomen,
some twinkling like diamonds in her pubic hair.  
  
"Take it off, stud," she urged, her face glowing with excitement.  
  
I was suddenly struck with the knowledge that this woman wanted to see me
naked, wanted me to join her in her exhibitionism. It was as if I was joining
some sort of exclusive society: if I could overcome my conservative nature and
expose myself . . . .  
  
The temptation was too much to resist. Just looking upon her simple, natural
beauty, the way she seemed so at home being naked in the wild . . . it was
inspiring, justifying.  
  
I pulled my sweater over my head, the rough, wet fabric rubbing my skin. My
voyeur grinned as I let it drop onto the rock, joining her blouse and shorts.
She gazed upon my torso, eyes wandering over my chest and abdomen, taking in
all the little imperfections and scars gained throughout my lifetime.  
  
She licked her lips. I could not help but notice that the elevation of the
rock placed my crotch at the same level as her head. "Don't stop now, baby,
keep going," she cooed, eyes blazing.  
  
I felt myself driven by some deep, hidden desire, a fantasy I never knew I
possessed. Maintaining my gaze upon her flushed and shimmering face, I
unsnapped, unzipped my shorts, worked them down off my hips. My stiff cock
pushed out against the fabric of my boxers, which, being soaking wet,
conformed to the shape of my dick.  
  
"Come on . . . ." she urged, staring at my crotch, placing her hand upon her
breasts.  
  
Her obvious arousal only inspired me further. I hooked my thumbs under the
matted waistband of my shorts, pulled them away from my cock, and let them
fall. My stiff penis thrust out into the glow of the sun, hard and proud and
glitteringly wet.  
  
She breathed in through her teeth, then grinned. "Oh, my," she sighed,
shifting closer, craning her neck. Emboldened, I moved to the edge of the
rock, my dick bobbing in the air before her face. I didn't think that I was in
the precarious position of being discovered at any moment by one or more of
the other cabin owners on the mountain. I didn't think about anything other
than the sexy nude nymph before me, staring with abject lust and desire upon
my cock.  
  
"Oh, sweet baby," she breathed, licking her soft pink lips. Her face was less
than a foot from my dick; I could almost feel the heat of her mouth over the
cool breeze that washed over my bobbing phallus. She glanced up to me. "So
what are you thinking now?"  
  
I trembled with arousal. "Honestly?" I asked.  
  
Her eyes flashed with an intensity that almost shocked me. "Yes," she said.
"Honestly. What do you _want_? And don't say what you think I want to hear."  
  
I hesitated. I had always been courteous toward women, had always put their
desires and needs before my own. The perfect gentleman, that was me. But this
woman . . .  
  
She did not want a gentleman. She wanted truth, as raw and sordid and blunt as
it may be.  
  
"Tell me," she said, giving me a hard look. "Tell me what your . . . _lust
_demands . . . or I'm walking away. Right now."  
  
I believed her. Women, I knew, were stronger when it came to sex than men. I
had no doubt that if I responded with anything other than the truth—  
  
"I want to fuck your mouth," I said. The words surprised me. Never had I
spoken so bluntly, so crudely, to a woman before.  
  
She stared at me a moment, her expression blank and unreadable . . . save for
the increased amount of blush in her cheeks, spreading down her neck to her
breasts. She lowered her eyes, staring intently upon my cock, and smiled.
"Then do it," she said, and leaned in, opening her mouth wide, slipping her
firm pink tongue out over her lower lip. She breathed heatedly on the head of
my cock, closing her eyes, waiting.  
  
For a brief moment, I hesitated, wondering what kind of woman would give
herself to a man she did not know – _she doesn't even known my name! Nor I,
hers! _– but my libido was overpowering, too overwhelming to resist.  
  
And I did not want to.  
  
Something surged through me, a pure, animal force that could not be denied. I
slipped down through the ages to my basic, primitive roots, wanting nothing
more than gratification. And with that simple, selfish, impulsive aim, I
slipped my fingers through her fine, golden-brown hair, grasping the bases of
her tails. I pushed my hips forward, feeling the sweet wet warmth of her lips
and tongue against the head of my dick. She whimpered, licking softly,
reflexively, tasting the clear liquid that oozed onto her tongue.  
  
"Ohhhh," she moaned, her body trembling. I realized she was as turned on as I,
and with that realization . . . .  
  
"Oh, God!"  
  
"Mmmmpph!"  
  
I thrust my cock deep into her mouth, and she sucked me in eagerly, leaning
even deeper into me, digging her fingers into the rock. Her mouth was hot and
wet, moreso than any I had ever felt on my cock before, and she sucked with
such yearning and eagerness, such undeniable hunger . . .  
  
I moaned in bliss, pumping my hips toward her face, sliding my dick back and
forth in her passionate mouth. She whimpered and moaned, breathed deeply
through her nose, sucking, massaging, caressing, pulling—  
  
"Oh, fuck!"  
  
"Hmm! Mm-hmm! Mmmm . . . ."  
  
Her impassioned moans, sounding so desperate and frantic, spurred me on even
more. I ground into her mouth, feeling the tight gullet of her throat, the
spasmodic twitching of the muscles around the head of my cock. She gagged
slightly, drew back a moment, but I had a fierce hold on her head and shoved
her back down even as I punched deep.  
  
She emitted a strange gurgling, gargling, choking sound, her eyes flashing
open wide as I shoved deep into her throat. The rippling, automatic sucking-
swallowing motions of her throat stimulated my cock like nothing else. I
trembled with pleasure and . . . something else . . . as I looked down and saw
her lips duckbilled around the very base of my dick, her eyes bulging, tears
dripping from her eyes.  
  
A moment's concern returned to my mind, and I started to pull back. But her
hands flashed up, grabbing my muscular thighs, and she buried my cock to the
root once more, wet gagging sounds spurting from her throat. I moaned in
response, realizing that this little nymph wanted to be used, wanted to be
taken—  
  
"Muummaaghh!" she sputtered, pulling back with effort, my cock popping out of
her throat, out of her mouth. Thick saliva coated my shaft, stretched from the
head to her lips as she panted. It dripped out of her mouth, down her chin,
hanging in thick rivulets off my shaft and balls.  
  
She panted a few times, staring at my cock, licking her lips. But as soon as I
figured she had gained her breath –  
  
"Ummrph!"  
  
I drove deep again, humping, fucking her throat rudely, curling one hand
beneath her jaw to feel the rippling of her bulging throat, the movement of my
cock in her esophagus . . . _oh, Jesus, that's so fucking hot!_  
  
It wasn't long before I felt the onset of my orgasm, like a tight, pulling
sensation that began at the tips of my fingers and toes and spiraled in toward
the center of my being. It gathered in the pit of my stomach and surged down
through my groin, rocketing up the shaft of my cock—  
  
"I'm cumming!" I managed to gasp.  
  
My nymph jerked her head back suddenly, slipping her sloppy mouth off my dick,
bringing up her hands. She panted heavily as she slapped her hands around my
spit-smeared shaft, opened her mouth wide around the head of straining dick,
flicking the tip of her tongue against the slit in my dick.  
  
"C'mon! C'mon!" she urged with sexiest impatience. "Ohhh, God . . .!"  
  
Then came incredible, rapturous release. I dug my fingers into her scalp,
pushing just a little into the hot cavern of my nymph's mouth, her hands
smacking wetly back and forth on the shaft, so fast and tight that they were
nothing more than a slick blur.  
  
I managed to look down, beholding the sexiest sight I had ever seen: my
lover's face contorted with wanton pleasure, her mouth wide and wet around my
dick, the expression on her face one of total sexual devotion. She masturbated
me frantically, wanting, perhaps even needing, to feel and taste –  
  
I swear I screamed when I came. Never had I felt an orgasm so intense in my
life. I somehow managed to keep staring down as thick spurts of semen lanced
from my cock, splashing onto her tongue, disappearing deep into her mouth,
spattering her lips, cheeks, even her nose and chin as she rolled her head
around.  
  
"Uhmmm," she moaned, slurping my cock wetly into her mouth, pushing down,
taking me to the root once more, this time willingly. I trembled on weak legs
as her esophageal muscles sucked hard at my sensitive cock, as she swallowed
down my trickling seed.  
  
I swayed back and forth, holding onto her head for balance as my lover slid
her lips back and forth, suckling me tenderly as I softened. My strength all
but gave out, and I dropped to my knees, my dick popping out of her mouth
loudly and wetly. I sagged onto my back, my ears filled with only the sound of
my surging blood. Yet, while my senses seemed dulled, I could feel her tongue
and lips as she lapped up and down and around my cock, kissing and murmuring
affectionately.  

"St-stop," I managed to mutter, reaching with heavy hands to her oscillating
head. I could feel the damp ends of her pigtails dragging across the outside
of my thighs.  
  
"Uhn-uhnn," she responded, then crawled up over me, straddling my hips. "I'm
not through with you yet."  
  
I grunted, then winced as she reached between us, taking my cock in her hand.
I wasn't hard, but my dick was like a thick sponginess in her fingers. The
heat and wetness of her slick pussy – damn, was she wet – seared through me,
burning into my loins. I literally felt her fluid dripping down the head of my
cock.  
  
I managed to open my eyes, lift my head. My nymph squatted over me, booted
feet planted firmly on either side of my hips, thighs spread wide, her labia
hanging down like slick pink drapes that teased as much as they caressed the
glistening head of my dick.  
  
"Oh, fuck," I moaned.  
  
"Exactly," she said, then sighed deeply, a sound that became a deep moan as
she worked my shaft inside her. I wanted to tell her that it was too soon,
that I needed time to get hard, but . . . oh, God . . . her pussy was so hot,
so tight and wet, sucking me in, encouraging me, driving me—  
  
"Ohhh, yesss," she hissed as my cock thickened inside her, worked by her
squeezing, stroking vaginal muscles. I looked to her face, saw the bliss
there, the glow on her wet cheeks. Thick cloudy fluid clung to her cheeks and
chin, dripped to my chest. Tiny rivers of sperm and saliva dribbled down her
neck toward her breasts, catching the reflected light from the water around
us. Never had I seen anything so erotic.  
  
Her eyes were closed as she slid up and down, as she fucked me. Her mouth was
stretched by an open grin of pure pleasure; she alternatively laughed,
giggled, cried and moaned as my cock grew thicker and harder within her,
plunging into her depths. To my erotic shock, I found I was once again as hard
and stiff as I could be, and within a handful of minutes after orgasm.  
  
My nymph inspired me, that much was obvious. She aroused me in ways no other
woman had ever done before. It was more than just the exhibitionism of the
moment, of the kinky eroticism of my semen obscuring her freckles and dripping
down her cheeks and chin and frosting her lips . . . it was everything, all at
once. The raw, carnal power of two people who wanted nothing more than pure
and complete sexual gratification.  
  
I felt refueled, energized, and curled up enough to find her breasts with my
mouth. My hands sought out her firm cheeks, squeezed, kneaded, scratched them.
My lover gasped loudly when my mouth covered one of her nipples. I tasted
something salty, dry . . . my own cum, I realized. It turned me on.  
  
"Oh, baby, bite it," she hissed, clutching my head, mussing my damp hair. "Go
on, bite—oh! Oh, yes! Yes! YES!"  
  
I dug into her nipple with my teeth, chewing it, pulling on it, strumming my
tongue across the tip. I sucked as much of her tit as I could, and suddenly
tasted something warm, semi-sweet, and bitter. It trickled out of her nipple,
and I sucked it down as eagerly as she had devoured my semen.  
  
_Milk_, I realized. _Mother's milk . . . ._  
  
She thrashed and writhed atop me, grinding her cunt to my cock and her tit to
my mouth – I use those words because that is how animalistic and raw the
situation was – gasping and moaning, crying and screeching as she came . . .
and came . . . and came . . . .  
  
Had I been fresh, had I not already cum, I would undoubtedly have joined her.
But my first orgasm had granted me staying power I would not otherwise have
enjoyed, and I fucked her hard and deep as my nymph trembled and shook atop
me. Her pussy squeezed me fiercely, as tightly as any virgin's, her depths
hotter than the core of an active volcano.  
  
Somehow, I managed to lift up and curl my arm around her, pulling her off me.
Her deeply blushed and freckled face registered surprise for a moment, and
even some disappointment as my cock slipped from inside her. But she offered
no resistance as I turned her about upon the rock, pushing her shoulders down
and pulling up on her hips.  
  
She dug into the edge of the rock, her head hanging over the edge, and arched
her back, rolling her hips out toward me, eagerly offering her swollen cunt. I
ducked down for a moment, sucking and licking her puffy, crimson lips. The
taste of her was incredible.  
  
I ignored the pain in my knees as I positioned myself behind her and lined up
my dick with her gaping wet pussy. We both moaned at the union of cock and
cunt once more. I winced at the tight feel of her, the sucking and pulling
motions of her inner muscles. I had always enjoyed taking a woman from behind,
watching her tight asshole flex and wink with each thrust, the play of her
labia around my shaft, the stretching of her vulva when I pulled back . . . .  
  
"Oh, God!"  
  
My lover threw her head back, the wet ends of her twin tails slapping her back
as she came. Lost to passion, I grabbed her hair in my hands, jerking on her
tails, keeping her head snapped back as I drove into her over and over and
over . . . .  
  
To describe what I felt when I finally came, when I ejaculated deep inside my
nymph's body would be pointless. How can you qualify ultimate bliss? Pure
pleasure? It is enough, I think, to say that my orgasm was the longest, most
satisfying, most intensely pleasurable moment of my life.  
  
I know I blacked out, for how long, I can not say. When I came to my senses, I
heard the bubbling of the stream, the chirping of innocent birds within the
trees, felt the cool breeze across my sweaty torso . . . and the sweet, slow
licks and loving kisses upon and around my cock.  
  
It took all my effort, but I was able to lift my head and look down. My lover
was lapping softly at my spent dick, planting little wet kisses here and
there. Her face was glossy, her lips shiny and wet. She was smiling in
satisfaction.  
  
I reached down, touched her head, her neck, her shoulders. She tilted her face
up, gave me a glowing look.  
  
"Hi," she whispered.  
  
I chuckled. "I . . . I don't even know your name," I said.  
  
She smiled broadly. "Mary," she said.  
  
I sighed, let my head fall back. "Nice to . . . meet you . . . ."  
  
***  
  
When I awoke, the sun was just touching the horizon beyond the trees, casting
that strange amber twilight across the world. Mary was curled up beside me,
her head nuzzled to my chest, her right hand casually settled upon my cock. I
shifted a little, kissed the top of her head. Mary's hand tightened for a
moment on my shaft, pulled upon it.  
  
She lifted her head, giving me a weary, smiling look. "Ready for more?" she
asked.  
  
I chuckled. "Your place or mine?"  
  
Her smile broadened, revealing pearly teeth. "Yours. Let's go."  
  
***  
  
We fucked like animals all night. Mary was insatiable, and I had a hard time
keeping up with her. Having cum twice with her already, my middle-aged cock
was hard pressed to match Mary's apparently endless stream of orgasms. We
fucked in the living room of my cabin, upon the flocate rug before the
fireplace, then on the couch, over the kitchen table, in the shower, on my bed
. . . .  
  
All told, Mary coaxed out three more orgasms from me that night. She
especially enjoyed the feel of my cum splashing upon her skin, and played with
the puddles and droplets of semen I deposited upon her little breasts, neck,
cheeks and thighs. She gave me devilish looks as she scooped some of it up
with her fingers and sucked them clean, and giggled at my stupefied reactions.  
  
In the morning, I awoke late, rousing myself from erotic and romantic dreams
that centered around Mary. Yet, when I touched the pillows and mattress beside
me . . . .  
  
She was gone.  
  
No trace, no note, nothing . . . nothing to remind me that what I had
experienced had been real.  
  
I headed down to the stream, stared at the mossy boulder for an hour . . .
then two, then three . . . . Finally, as the sun set, I trudged back home.  
  
I was too depressed to write that night, and instead, drank myself into
oblivion.  
  
But the following morning . . . I wrote as if possessed by a muse, or a demon.  
  
***  
  
"Hey, Will," came the cheerful voice of Fran, the ubiquitous waitress at the
diner at the base of the mountain. She was a forty-something woman with long
red hair and a cheerful, chubby face to match her body. "The usual?"  
  
I nodded as I took a seat at the counter. The dining room was nearly empty
except for the regulars.  
  
"Maybe I'm reading too much," Fran said as she poured my coffee. "But you
either got laid, or got fucked."  
  
I chuckled at her crude humor. It was one of the things I liked about her.
"Maybe a little of both," I said, pouring sugar into the dark, earthy brew.  
  
Fran leaned on the counter, hefty, sagging breasts pushing against her work
polo. Her eyes bore into mine. "Gonna see her again?" she asked.  
  
I sighed, shook my head. "Doubt it," I responded somberly.  
  
I heard the door chime ring, then a feminine giggle. It sounded familiar. I
turned away from my coffee, away from Fran. A middle-aged man – older than I,
for certain – grinned as a pretty, young, freckled brunette pushed him forward
in his wheelchair, laughing and smiling upon him. Beside them bounced a little
girl in a Sunday-school dress, about six or seven years old. They took a table
not far from me. The woman gave him a tight hug, full of affection and
devotion for the man before her. He scratched the back of his balding head,
hugged her close.  
  
I watched them for a moment, hearing within her muffled giggles and hearty
laughs the memories of passionate cries and deep sighs garnered by sexual
satisfaction.  
  
Our eyes met for a moment, as she kissed him and her eyes wandered across the
room. Her smile faded, and she dislodged from him. Her eyes lingered on mine
for a moment, the expression on her face one of pure anxiety. Her lips worked
as she spoke something I could not catch.  
  
I turned back to my coffee. A tight ball had formed in my stomach and now
radiated outward. I gritted my teeth against the sensation.  
  
"Hey."  
  
I did not look to her, even though I knew it was Mary. I _knew_, by the smell
of her, the sound of her, the radiance of her.  
  
"Hey," I said back.  
  
Fran gave us puzzled looks as she addressed Mary. "What'cha need, honey?"  
  
Mary slipped a bill across the counter. "Quarters for the video game, if you
don't mind."  
  
Fran nodded, stepping away to the register at the other end of the counter. I
felt Mary's presence beside me, like the warmth and slightly oppressive
radiance of a space heater.  
  
"Look, It's not what you think—"  
  
I interrupted her as I shifted in my chair, glancing back toward the table.
Her beau – _Husband? Lover? Boyfriend_? – was facing away from us, watching
the TV hanging in the corner of the room. The little girl – Mary's daughter,
obviously, judging by the red hair and freckles – was dragging a chair up to
an ancient Galaga machine. I forced my eyes to settle back upon hers.  
  
"How do you know what I think?"  
  
Mary blinked. Emotion colored her face. She laughed sharply, trying to deflect
her true reactions. Her eyes darted around the diner before returning to mine.
"It was just a one-time thing," she said. "I mean . . . seriously, you can't
really expect that we could . . . I mean . . . ."  
  
I held her gaze for a long moment, then smiled ruefully and turned back,
sipped my coffee. I set the mug down, aware that Mary was waiting for me to
say something. I finally noticed the rings glittering on her finger. She had
not been wearing them when we were together.  
  
"What happened to him?" I asked.  
  
Mary took a breath. "Aneurysm," she said simply.  
  
I nodded noncommittally. "Must be pretty hard on you."  
  
I heard her voice catch. "Sometimes," she said in a small, frail voice.  
  
I sucked my bottom lip in contemplation. "So I was just . . . convenient," I
said, trying not to show how hurt and used I felt.  
  
She shuddered with a sigh, scooped up the coins Fran gave her. "Yeah . . .
guess so."  
  
I ground my teeth, nursed my coffee. Fran gave me a wondering look, but I
waved her away. "So I guess that's it."  
  
Mary breathed out heavily. "Please," she said. "I don't care if you believe it
or not, but I love my husband. I love my family. I never . . . what happened
between us was just . . . it just happened, okay? It doesn't mean anything,
right?"  
  
I let the silence between us hang for several moments. I wanted her to stew in
it, to simmer and fret, wondering what I was going to do. I finally stood,
tossed a couple bills on the counter, and faced Mary. Her freckled face was
pale, eyes wide with apprehension. I really did not know what she wanted me to
say. So I just said what I really felt.  
  
"It did," I said. "But not anymore."  
  
Her eyes became hard. "That won't work on me," she said. Yet still, behind her
pride, there was anxiety. Fear that I might reveal her adulterous nature to
her husband.  
  
But I had my pride, as well, I suppose. Pride in knowing a woman as intimately
as I did Mary, pride that I was too strong to give in to jealous male machismo
and ruin another person's life.  
  
So I did nothing, and said nothing. I simply stood from the bar, leaving a few
bills for Fran, and left.  
  
***  
  
I'll never understand women, not that I ever figured I was supposed to. I love
them, I want them, and somewhere among the billions of women in the world,
there is that perfect one for me.  
  
I guess I'll just keep looking. And in the meantime . . . .  
  
Damn, do they make for wonderful inspiration.  
  
_-finis-_




End file.

