I know the way she thinks. I know her mind, almost as intimately as I know her body. She has shy, quiet places that have greeted me timidly, and she has assertive places that offer themselves with the assurance that is her definitive quality. Mind and body. I have thought that I know them all, as much as anyone knows, as much as she herself knows. I have even thought, with the arrogance that annoys her, that I know much about her that she does not.
I know her. This is what I have thought. This is what I believed. I believed that I could chart her progress with the high degree of accuracy that such a craft demands, that I could predict, even predetermine her actions--the ideas that occurred to such a splendid mind, the pleasure provided by her long, slender body.
Arrogance? She would have thought so, while acknowledging the same failing in herself. Did I love her for her mind? Her mind was not a thoroughly loveable organ, true. There were flaws there, her own arrogance, her volatility, her strange fits of moodiness. Her maddening insecurity. And can such flaws seem endearing? Oh, I thought so. They all conspired to create a puzzling, absorbing creature that grabbed my attention and held it, through irritation at times, and at others through affection.
Ann. Did I love her for her mind? I know her mind. I know her body. Though her mind is more complex, her body is more accommodating. In her body I see none of the hard, fast obstinancies that sometimes frustrate me. In her body I see only an elegance and a spareness, an odd grace particular to women of her type. Hers is the kind of figure that some would call boyish, causing in her an odd sort of wistfulness with their carelessness. Long legs that have a curve of softness at the calf before tapering into an impossibly slender ankle. Prominent bones at her shoulders, creating fascinating shadows. Pelvic bones that challenge the casual observer, a challenge I readily accepted. Small, soft breasts that she tries to camouflage by wearing clothes that swallow her. A tiny waist that troubles her at times, flowing into rounded, narrow hips. White, tender thighs.
No, in her body I see none of the imperfection that made her mind such a puzzle. Perhaps that is why I loved her body first.
But, yes, I loved her mind.
I thought I knew her mind. We allow such illusions to lull us; there was much I didn't see until that gloomy November evening.
I was going to see her at her apartment that evening. It was early, and the sky was gray with the anemic fall light that shines between rains. I was expected; I was almost always expected, always welcome, so I wasn't concerned when she didn't answer my knock at the door. Most probably she was upstairs in her bedroom, and hadn't heard me. I let myself in.
Sixth sense. There are those who laugh but I have felt one at times. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing out of place in her apartment, no more so than usual. She had often told me that she and I are complementary beings: I am neat and she is not. The disarray, she said, comforted her. Nothing complicated about that, and nothing unusual about the drift of objects accumulated on the table. Nothing unusual in the way her work was strewn about, drawings and sketches arranged in some crazily logical assembly across the floor.
So how did I know that something was very different? I felt it somehow, but I knew it when I heard her cry out. I've said that I know her body. I know the way it moves, the way it accommodates, the way it welcomes, and the way it reacts. The way she reacts. I knew that cry, knew it as almost a trophy that I had always been smugly proud of producing, of possessing.
Ann has never been a quiet lover.
I heard her cry as I was walking up the short flight of stairs to her room. My first thought was one of betrayal. This was the more primitive reaction, the kind of thing I earnestly try to squelch in myself. I don't like to think of myself as such a petty person, though Ann herself has no such compunction. I know what she would feel in the same situation, and, though I am slightly ashamed to admit it, I had always thought myself more advanced, more rational than she is. Hearing her cry and knowing the sudden rush of jealousy put that to rest.
But was I jealous? I stopped to ponder this as I had stopped on the stairs. Did I want to go down the stairs again and handle the situation with my typical nonchalance, with what Ann calls my typical brick wall approach? Did it even matter at all? Or did I want to continue on to her room? Did I want to confront her, confront her lover? Did I simply want to see whom she had chosen--because there has never been any doubt in my mind that she is the one who will choose, always?
And could I deny that I was becoming almost unbearably excited by the whole situation?
The feeling of betrayal and hurt died as I stood there on the stairs as other, more interesting, feelings replaced them. Curiosity. Astonish- ment. A grudging respect. And, well, tearing lust.
The heat that had spread through my body as I imagined the scene decided me. Was he dark or fair? I knew how she would look; the pink of her newly-warmed skin and the wide-eyed look of surprise that came over her in moments of excitement would not be new to me. But her lover? What kind of man had she chosen? I pictured her astride his body, her head tilted so she could watch his face. Her beneath him, her ankles resting on his shoulders, her hands caressing his face.
These images clouded my mind so that I couldn't remember walking up the rest of the stairs once I found myself at her door. I turned the knob and opened the door, feeling the blood pound in my body as I heard her sigh, a low, long sound that evoked other, more familiar scenes.
And did I expect the two of them to leap apart like guilty teenagers upon the arrival of a parent? They didn't.
She was lying on her back, knees spread wide apart, arms above her head, crossed at the wrists. He was curled at the foot of her bed, with his head between her thighs. Apparently they hadn't heard me come in.
Or so I thought. Ann had. She turned her head slightly to look at me, opening her eyes slowly, disoriented but aware. Her face was flushed with the force of her recent orgasm, and the smile she directed at me did nothing to diminish the urgency I felt. My cock felt uncomfortably stiff as I saw her tremble under the efforts of her dark-haired lover.
And I know the way she thinks. I know what she was thinking as she looked at me. She was challenging me, testing me.
You have always wanted this. You've wondered how I would move, how I would sound, how I would look with another man. Stay and watch, my darling.
She knows the way I think.
The man continued his oral exploration, and from the way Ann reacted, he was sufficiently skilled. I moved closer to the bed so I could see his face, and Ann obligingly spread her legs wider to improve my view. His eyes were closed as he worked on her, concentrating. I always preferred to watch her as I ate her. Perhaps he didn't know the lascivious joy that her face revealed from time to time, and how arousing that could be.
I could see the pink of his tongue as he licked her and teased her, finally moving from the slickness of her lips to her clit, causing her to breathe another sigh of contentment. I watched him as he flicked it back and forth experimentally, then brought his lips together and began sucking it. Her hips began to move, and her head turned slowly to the side, her mouth slightly open as her breathing came faster.
I wondered if he knew how much she loved having a man put his fingers inside her as he made her come with his tongue.
And I could see her nipples hardening, see her legs tremble as her excitement mounted. She opened her eyes to look down at the man as she has done with me, but he didn't meet her gaze as I would have. He missed it, missed that look of astonishment and delight that came over her face as her orgasm began, as she gripped the sheets and cried out once again.
Once her tremors had subsided, he moved his face away from her cunt and looked up. I expected some show of surprise, but there was none. He smiled slightly at me, and I knew he had seen that I had, without really being conscious of it, started to stroke the hardness of my cock through the fabric of my pants.
He looked away from me, though, and turned his attention to Ann's breasts, now flushed an eager pink. His lips closed around one nipple as he tested how sensitive it was. Ann looked at me again, this time smiling openly at me.
Do I please you? Is this what you thought it would be?
Much more, much more.
And Ann's nipples, while I am on the subject, are rather responsive. She has been known to come simply from having them touched, though I haven't seen it happen. So it came as no surprise that she reached out for my hand as her lover worked on one breast, and placed it on her other, closing my hand gently around the soft warmth of it. Her skin was smooth and warm, and she sighed with approval as I began to stroke her, caressing her nipple with my palm.
I know how she likes to be touched. She's shown me, whispered it to me. How did he know? He did know, though; I could tell by the slow smile that spread over her face as he moved his mouth away from her and mimicked the motions that I was using.
Ann looked first at him, then back at me. As if through some agreement among the three of us, she sat up and unbuttoned my shirt, removing it with a mischievous glance at the man beside her on the bed. Her hands moved then to the zipper of my pants, and soon I was kicking them off.
I felt enormously uncomfortable standing there naked in front of Ann's stranger. I am not a modest person by nature, but I had never been placed in such a situation. Strangely enough, though, my discomfort served only to increase my excitement. I wondered what he was thinking as he looked at me, so obviously aroused.
Wonderful. You are wonderful.
Ann's smile told me much as she pulled me down to sit next to her on the bed. The dark-haired man was stretched out behind us, and I paid him very little attention as she placed her hands on my face and kissed me with growing degrees of intensity. Soon she was sliding her hands over my chest, stopping on every pass to toy with my nipples.
She knows how to touch me. Her fingers on my skin felt deliciously cool against my warmth and eagerness. I must have sighed with relief when she finally wrapped her hands around my cock, because she looked up at me with a questioning gaze.
The best I could offer her was a smile as she began caressing me with her hands, with a gentle, light pressure as she moved up and down. I must have been absorbed in the feel of her hands, because it wasn't until I felt his mouth close around my nipple that I realized that Ann's lover had moved around to where we were sitting.
I wish I could describe the erotic thrill that jolted through my body as I watched him lick my skin, closing his lips to suck--this was the first look I had allowed myself at his face, and his brow was furrowed as though he were concentrating. Pretty boy, I thought, looking next at Ann. Her motions had not ceased, and I felt an unusual shock of excitement as I realized that she was becoming more aroused by watching the two of us together.
As if by mutual decision, the two stopped at the same time and rearranged themselves. Ann leaned down to put her head in my lap, and the man moved behind me, putting his arms around my chest and continuing his stimulation of my hard nipples. I could feel his tongue flicking my ear as Ann's began to explore my cock, and all I could think about was the relief that I would feel once this pressure in my body had been released.
And it was impossible to focus my attention on either one of them; the sensations were that good. It was as if my entire body had been reduced (or amplified) into one huge pleasure center, where it was immaterial who did the pleasing. I felt Ann's lips tighten around my cock as it slid deep into her mouth, and I felt his fingers on my nipples give a sudden hard squeeze.
When Ann began using her hands in concert with her mouth, my cock felt tremendous and swollen, and I thought to ask her to stop. But I wasn't able to; the man behind me had turned my head and began to kiss me.
There was something inherently strange in this, I thought, but it did not diminish the pleasure I felt at all. It was new and exciting to feel the harder, more definite kiss of a man, and not the yielding, melting kiss of a woman.
I liked it. I liked feeling his lips on mine, and I liked the feel of his tongue in my mouth as his hands wandered now over my shoulders and into my hair.
It was Ann who stopped, because I couldn't have stopped her at this point. She waited until the man had broken our kiss to look at her expectantly. Following his lead, I looked at her, too, as if for instructions.
And I found those instructions.
You've always wanted to know what it's like to suck on a man's cock. You've said so. I've told you I'd like to watch you do it.
She pushed the man onto his back so that I could situate myself comfortably. I had never really looked at a man's body when he was excited, much less touched one, and it's not the same as my own.
Much nicer. Ann has always been attracted to short men, so he was not very tall, but I could see how beautifully proportioned he was. His arms were firm, though not overly muscular, and his legs were slim and graceful. His chest had only a slight plume of hair, and he had a flat, smooth abdomen.
Oh, and the way his cock stood out, stiff and solid, against the whiteness of his skin.
I wanted to touch him all over, to know what it was like for Ann when she touched a man. First down over his shoulders, then down his sides. His nipples were not as sensitive as mine, so I moved on. Down over his hips and the plane of his stomach. His thighs, outside, then inside.
And I could tell that my touch excited him more. I reached out to touch his cock, and he took my hand in his to guide me. As I felt his hardness, his excitement, I became eager to have him in my mouth, to know how enormous that pleasure can be, to know at last.
His cock was heavy and hot in the coolness of the room. I leaned down and began as Ann always did, because it seemed to be a good starting place. I licked down the length of his cock, stopping at the head to rub him against my tongue. His sharp intake of breath assured me that I was not the only one who enjoyed this. I licked him until his skin slid easily against my hand.
Then I closed my lips around him tightly, very conscious of the size and girth of his cock. It wasn't long, but it was clear that that was not a concern. I took him into my mouth slowly, letting his cock slide along my tongue, careful not to graze him with my teeth. Ann sometimes did that when she was eager.
I sucked on him, then, gently at first, but then harder as his hips began to move in response to my touch. I can't begin to describe the powerful feelings that were happening in me as I felt his cock plunging into my mouth. I felt hot and cold and, yes, in control.
His breathing was coming faster, now, and I could feel by the motion of his body that he was about to come. I was so caught up in his rhythm that I wasn't concerned, wasn't ready for him to stop. The whole universe seemed to have been condensed into this man's hard, straining cock.
Ann stopped him, though, by the first word any of us had spoken since I came in. "Stop," she breathed, eyes bright and face flushed. It was clear that she had been enjoying the sight of us together; her arms crossed over her chest as if to hold herself back from interfering or joining in.
She reclined on the bed, spreading her legs wide. I could see her excitement there, see the pink eagerness that overpowers the shyness in moments of arousal. She was slick and ready, and he accepted the invitation that she extended him with enthusiasm.
And it was strange; I felt a bit left out of it all until I saw her level gaze directed at me as he positioned himself above her.
Haven't you thought about watching me fuck another man? I know you've wanted to. I know you've wanted to have me after someone else has. Let him come inside me.
The sight of the two of them as he slid his cock into her slowly was unbearably gorgeous. There are those who think of sex as a ridiculous act, but I am not one of them. These two were beautiful together, and I found myself wondering whether she and I moved so well with each other.
He teased her for a long time before he finally adopted any kind of rhythm, but by then I think she was too far gone to care. In certain moods Ann becomes almost mechanical in her orgasms; it is impossible to tell where one ends and another begins. She was coming over and over again as he slammed his cock into her, and if I watched closely I could see that his cock was covered with her wetness.
She has never been a quiet lover. Her sighs and her little gasps of surprise recalled countless erotic images, with her and with others. My cock felt uncomfortably hard, and I took it in my hands and began masturbating as I watched the two of them.
It wasn't long before Ann was almost crying in her arousal, and I knew that he would finish soon by the determination on his face. "Come inside me, please. Do it hard," she whimpered, and with a long sigh of relief he did, continuing his thrusting as her body tensed against his.
By this time I was avid for some release, so as soon as he moved away I touched Ann, touched the warm, flushed skin of her cheek and told her, "I want you now. I don't want to wait."
She opened her eyes and offered me a weak smile. She spoke to me for the first time since I had entered. "As you wish," she told me, sounding breathless and flustered.
It would be difficult to capture the eroticism of tasting her juices mingled with his, as I did when I bent to lick her. The scent of her excitement was heavy and fresh, and I attacked her cunt with my tongue and my lips, not really conscious of much but the sounds she made and the way she moved as I teased her, plunging my tongue deep inside her, then licking her clit slowly and deliberately.
And she was coming again, coming still. I felt her hips rock and her body tense, and she finally edged away from my mouth as she does when the pleasure becomes too intense. "Come on," she whispered, looking at me, glowing with a flush that was almost feverish. "Hurry," she urged, as I unfolded my body in preparation to enter her.
I needed no more coaxing. I placed her ankles atop my shoulders, because this has always been her position of preference, and I intended to please her as I pleased myself. I went inside her deeply on the first stroke, because she was so slick and ready.
The wetness and the warmth of her cunt gripped me and squeezed me convulsively as I slid my cock in and out of her swollen lips. I watched her face as she climaxed yet again, and her fingers worked at her nipples, which were stiff and pink with her arousal.
As beautiful a sight as she was there beneath me, I couldn't help losing myself in my own excitement. I moved faster and more regularly in and out of her, feeling the pressure mount in my body, climbing to a higher peak than I had yet felt that afternoon. Her hands came up to squeeze my nipples, and I was almost blinded with the pleasure of her touch.
"Stop," she said once again, and her command puzzled me. But she was serious, as serious as she could be in her present state of unceasing arousal. I stopped, withdrawing with some disappointment.
She placed her hands on my shoulders and pushed me onto my back with a surprising strength. She straddled me then, taking my cock deep inside her, coming down upon me hard. I think I must have laughed.
She is really a delightful creature at these times.
And her hands continued to play at my nipples as she moved on top of me, moving slowly, tilting her hips on every stroke to increase her pleasure. She moved as though she were using me, and I loved the look of concentration that crossed her face as she worked toward another climax.
It happened, and as her body shuddered she collapsed, pressing her body flat against mine, while continuing the motion of her hips. It wasn't long, though, before she regained her equilibrium and returned astride me, moving now with determination to help me find the same release that she had been enjoying.
I put my hands on her hips to guide her motions, and we soon found a rhythm that began my climb to the peak of my arousal. I could feel the pressure mounting inside me, again, again, almost painful. I could feel the familiar churning with in my body that meant that I was about to come.
And with the childlike cry that always amuses her, I did. I felt myself shooting deep inside her, felt the muscles of her cunt caress me as my cock and my entire body trembled with my orgasm. She moved a bit more, satisfying herself and completing my pleasure, before she finally collapsed on top of me again, my cock still deep inside her.
Time passed, and we stayed like that, with my arms loosely around her as we both regained our breath. I must have slept, because I next found myself alone in the bed.
Ann sat in a chair near the bed, watching me as I had slept, an unreadable expression on her face. There were many questions I couldn't answer, many things I wanted to ask her. Something in her face prevented me, though. Her look was enough.
You wanted this. I wanted this. Don't question it.
You enjoyed this. I enjoyed this. He enjoyed this.
No questions, please.
I thought I knew how her mind works. I thought I knew her. It wasn't until that evening that I learned how little I actually know. It wasn't until that evening that I began to understand how much she was her own creature, with desires and ideas independent of mine.
It was certainly nice to have met her.
* Note: I am trying to find this author. If you are he, please email me. Thanks!