He made little grunting noises as he fucked her, his cock sliding between her legs. The sound filled the room, a rhythmic slapping of heated flesh, and she knew that his easing off, his deeper breaths, meant that he was getting close and trying to hold off for her. She gripped the covers in her hands, twisting and pulling at them.
Then-oh, thank god! She felt his fingers sliding underneath her, searching through her wetness for her pulsing, aching center, and she sighed in grateful relief, moving a little to help him. There… right there… his fingers moving back and forth over her clit.
“Mmmmmm!” She moaned, squeezing his cock hard, making him gasp and thrust deep into her pussy. She made the noise again, a constant hum now in her throat, her breath coming faster as he fucked her, the motion of his fingers creating the perfect amount of friction to send her over the edge.
“Oooooooohhh!” She shuddered underneath him as she came, the quick spasms of her pussy making him groan and grab at her, driving in so deep that he collapsed her onto the bed as he came, filling her convulsing wet channel with his cum. His cock erupted with sudden, violent force, surging white heat deep inside of her.
“God,” he gasped as he rolled off her onto the bed, throwing his arm over his forehead and staring at the ceiling.
Laura pressed her flushed, hot cheek against the covers, searching for a cool spot. She looked at him through half-closed eyes, feeling the thick heat of his cum beginning to slip out of her, as if there were too much for her to contain. Watching his breath returning to normal, she found herself wanting him, to be next to him, to keep him with her.
As if he sensed her desire, he turned toward her, reaching for her hands. He slowly worked the knots out of his tie, freeing her wrists. Rubbing them, she met his eyes, seeing something there that she didn’t quite recognize.
“Come here, Wilma.” He held his arms out to her. She went to him, nestling her cheek against him, feeling something swelling in her chest. It almost felt like she was about to cry, but she wasn’t sad. She wasn’t sad at all.
“Fred needs a nap,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. She laughed, a bright sound, as she closed her eyes, listening to him breathe as they both drifted off.
* * * *
“She’ll have the egg white omelet, no onion, a small orange juice, and a side of fruit.” Rick smiled up at the waitress. He glanced over at Laura, resting her chin in her hand and looking dreamily over the railing at the clear water below. She lifted her face to the breeze, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes for a moment.
“Do you want coffee, baby?”
“Nuh-uh.” She opened her eyes to him with a bright smile.
“Did you want water with lemon?” the waitress asked him. It was the same blond girl from yesterday, wearing yellow today, a sarong and matching top, but Rick hadn’t looked twice at her.
“Sure, thanks,” he said, his gaze on his wife. The girl took their menus and left. Rick slid his hand across the table and he took Laura’s hand.
“How’d you like to go for a walk on the beach after breakfast?” He turned her hand over and traced the lines on her palm. “I think we’ve got time before we’ve gotta be back in Bedrock.”
“Mmmm,” she said with a little laugh at his Flintstone reference.
“Are you cold?” His eyes moving over her outfit-red bikini top and red flowered sarong. She looked like the girls down on the beach.
“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head, squeezing his hand and feeling flushed as she remembered his hands on her last night, the things he did when he touched her…
“You’re beautiful.” He squeezed her back.
She just smiled, turning her eyes back out to the beach that they were going to be strolling along after a leisurely breakfast. She couldn’t believe the difference twenty-four hours had made.
* * * *
“So, what kind of difference did twenty-four hours make?” Gazoo asked, holding the microphone out toward them.
“It was amazing.” Rick took it without hesitation. “It took us… me… a little while to get the hang of it. After I made her apologize yesterday at dinner…”
The audience around them started clapping and cheering again at that. Laura flushed, but she was smiling.
“We had some practice in our room that went… pretty well, I think.”
Gazoo looked at Laura. “Did he take care of you?”
She nodded.
“Did he let you go hungry, or walk in front of a bus?”
She laughed and shook her head.
“Do you trust him to make a solid decision with your best interests at heart?”
Laura felt tears coming to her eyes. She looked over at Rick, and he saw the expression on her face as she nodded and put her hand in his. He looked like he felt ten feet tall.
Gazoo nodded, looking satisfied. “I think that look said it all. Sounds like your practice was a success. Give them a hand, folks. It isn’t an easy exercise.”
The sound of applause made Laura flush again as The Great Gazoo moved on to another couple who had undertaken a practice yesterday.
Laura leaned in and whispered in Rick’s ear, “So, Fred… do you still think he’s an asshole?”
He chuckled, shaking his head and turning his mouth to her ear, whispering, “No, Wilma. He’s no dumb-dumb.”
Cat Lover
There was only one good thing about living with Katie in that little basement apartment-it was cool in the summer. Otherwise, it totally sucked. We could hear everything in the whole house. We knew someone had a dog, because he barked like a rabid Cujo every morning at seven, and of course, my first class didn’t start until ten. Plus, they used the back stoop and its very small area of grass as a doggie-toilet. It was really gross, and the landlord knocked on our door one morning (again, before nine-couldn’t people respect a college guy’s schedule?) demanding to know if we were the one with the dog.
It wasn’t us. The landlord was one of the few on campus who allowed pets. I didn’t even want to own fish but Katie insisted on cats. If it wasn’t the dog barking upstairs, it was the whine of the can opener from our kitchen. Every morning, six a.m.-reer-reer-reer-followed by a hundred thousand thumpity-thumps from every direction, accompanied by a cacophony of meows.
The other thing about the basement that sucked was that we lived next to the laundry room. The noise wasn’t bad-it was better than the cats and that damned dog-but it was the flooding that was the issue. Once in a while, a sock would get stuck in the wash tub and it would overflow during the rinse cycle. Someone’s brilliant design idea in re-vamping this old house as a rental had placed another door to our apartment between the machine and the drain. The carpet always had a faint mildewy smell to it.
One morning long before I should have been awake, I heard Katie doing that “here, kittykittykitty” run-on that cat lovers always used-like the cats ever came when you called them? She would have had better luck bringing the can opener. I was thinking all of this with the pillow pulled over my head to block out the light. There was one other good thing about our basement apartment-we seemed to get less light through the little windows near the ceiling.
“Bad kitty!” I heard her admonishing, but it was when I heard the splashing and knew the tub had overflowed again that I groaned and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Sebastian to the rescue! I just needed a super-suit. My bare feet squished on the soggy carpet. I was trying to remember where I’d put the box fan we used to dry it out while I pulled on a pair of sweat pants and opened the door to the laundry room.
The sight wasn’t a bad one-it could have been much worse. The floor was completely flooded, all right, but there was Katie wearing boy shorts and a tank-tee, half sprawled across the rumbling washer, reaching behind it for something. Her feet were wet and the water dripped down her legs as she grunted and wiggled on top of the machine. I stood in the doorway for a moment, admiring the view, until she slid off the washer into a puddle with a frustrated sigh, blowing a piece of dark hair out of her eyes.