He set up two glasses and sat down at the table, willing his heart to stop beating so fast. The headlights of Rachel’s Intrepid appeared on the garage door, and he smiled, imagining her gathering up her purse, her bag with all her lesson plans. It was such a sweet moment of anticipation, the time between knowing she was home and waiting for her to appear.
The side door opened and she swept in, unslinging purses and bags from her shoulder and hanging them over a kitchen chair. “You won’t believe the stuff I have to do this weekend. I hate this new policy. Homework for kindergartners is—uh, what’s this?”
Rachel stood staring at the glasses and the wine and looked up at him. Jake had used the corkscrew when he got home, careful to avoid some unmasculine display, just in case. He uncorked the bottle and began to pour them each a glass.
“It’s a special occasion.” He offered her a glass of wine.
“It is?” She lifted the glass to her nose.
He waiting, watching her sip it, her eyes surprised as she took her first taste. “It’s good, isn’t it?”
“Yes… but what’s the occasion?” Rachel sat at the kitchen table, toeing off her heels. As often as she complained about them, she still wore them, and Jake liked imagining her standing in front of a classroom of kindergarteners in those heels.
Brynn bounded down the stairs, interrupting the moment, swinging a bag over her shoulder as she kissed Jake’s cheek and then her mother’s. “I’ll be at Tina’s—bye!”
Like a whirlwind she was gone and they were alone again.
Rachel raised her eyebrows at him. “Special occasion?”
Jake took a gulp of his wine. “Go look upstairs.”
“What did you do?” Rachel stood and set her glass on the counter.
“Let’s just say it’s… naughty…” He stood, too, and put his arms around her waist, kissing the creamy part in the middle of her auburn hair. She raised her eyes to meet his and Jake felt an urge kiss her full, perfect mouth in a way he never had before-he wanted to smear her pale pink lipgloss over her face and grind his hips into hers until she gasped.
She was so naturally beautiful, her eyes like green glass, her cheeks already slightly pink at the mention of what she termed “naughty stuff.” It was an endearing term, and she was dear to him, her lush curves still as breathtaking as they’d been the day he married her.
“Go look!”
She relented, grabbing her shoes and flashing him a bewildered smile as she passed. He thought of her sifting through the delicate material, discovering each like a veiled secret, layers of thin, airy material he anticipated showing her deliciously rich shape to full advantage. His pants were enormously tight, now, the anticipation almost too much, and he drained another glass of wine in one shot.
“Jake…” Rachel called to him, her voice different, throaty. He straightened, putting his glass down on the counter and heading through the kitchen door. He stopped when he turned the corner and looked up the stairs, seeing her wearing nothing but the body stocking and a pair of heels—the very same ones she stood and taught kindergarten in every day.
“Oh my god…” Jake didn’t have any more words. Her pale, creamy flesh showing through the fine mesh had all of his attention.
“Like it?” She cocked her head, her hair spilling like fire over her exposed, generous breasts, and smiled. “I sure do…”
Jake didn’t answer. He bounded eagerly up the stairs. This time he, too, took them two at a time, knowing there was most definitely something special waiting for him at the top.
STAR OF DAVID
“I don’t believe in God.” Dawn heard his words, but she didn’t believe them. He was the most spiritually connected person she had ever met.
“I see God when you fuck me,” she whispered, dancing her fingers over his belly, clammy now with sweat from their lovemaking, her own belly showing a fine, matching sheen.
“What does he look like?” She could hear the smile in his voice, teasing her. “Old white guy with a beard and staff standing at the gates of heaven?”
“No, nothing like that… Do you want to enter the gates of heaven?” she asked, sliding her leg slowly over his and pressing the fullness of her breasts against his side.
Her wetness slid along his leg and she saw his cock twitch slightly in response.
“Not if I have to be good,” he grinned, grabbing her thigh and shifting her onto him. He was studying her sitting up so proudly on him, like some Rubenesque Venus with her full, lush curves, her hair like liquid, burnished copper in the early morning light.
“Oh, you have to be good,” she assured him, leaning in to find a kiss, capturing his hardening cock between them. “Very, very good.” She whispered the words against the razor stubble along the cleft of his chin.
It was always good between them, it had been that way since the beginning, when they had finally consummated their long distance love affair in his tiny flat in London, and it had been that way forever, as they met “Same-Time-Next-Year"-like again and again, unable to resist the magnetic pull between them. Once a year, or once every other, she would fly across the Atlantic to be swept into his arms for a few days of passion that neither of them ever wanted to end. Sometimes it was disrupted on her
end, sometimes on his. It was no different than any other affair, the usual heart-rending anchors at home, a husband who loved her enough but not quite, children who needed a mother. There were hundreds, probably hundreds of thousands like it, happening all the time, every day, year after year. She knew he had girlfriends, both short and long-term, but it wasn’t enough to keep them apart, and yet there was somehow never anything to completely catapult them together, either. They stayed there in some liminal space, and this was just the nature of their love affair, a powerful, painful, convoluted and compelling thing.
“David, how can I love you so much?” she whispered over his collarbone, stopping to tongue his nipples, smiling at his groan of pleasure.
“Because I’m God, apparently,” he replied, and she snorted at his cheeky grin.
“No, silly… you’re not God. But I definitely see God through you,” she affirmed, kissing her way down that sweet, tempting treasure trail toward his now fully hard cock.
Stretched out between his legs and laying her head on his thigh, she took it in her hands and looked up at it. A tower of strength. She worshipped here. This was a yearly pilgrimage, an altar where she came to kneel and pray and give thanks for all of her blessings. He was her wailing wall. The world could fall down around her, as it had a tendency to do over time, her father’s death, her sister’s nasty divorce, her husband’s distance, her own children’s betrayals, but David was a constant, her rock.
She worshipped his shaft as if it were holy, and to her, that is exactly what it was.
Her tongue surfacing it, every ridge and vein, the entire length, a sweet and silent invocation, again and again and again. His moans of pleasure fed her like nothing else she had ever known, and his cock filled her in ways she never knew possible. She wanted him, again, always, deep inside of her, filling that empty, aching space that only he seemed able to reach.
She was climbing him, feeling her own need weeping between her legs, and he held her hips locked and still, as he always did, looking into her eyes, before letting her sink down onto him with a deep sigh that was both pleasure and relief. It was as if their bodies completed some electrical circuit this way as she leaned over to kiss him, his tongue finding all of those places in her mouth that tickled and tingled all at once. She moved as if she were dancing for him, on him, the wet squelch of their suction, that glorious pull, the only music in the room. His hands found her breasts, heavy, swaying as she rocked, flicking her large pink nipples with his thumbs. She gasped in response, sucking at his tongue, her hair falling in wisps over his face, tickling his nose, his cheeks, his neck, until he couldn’t stand it and pressed her back slightly, breaking their kiss.