She closed her cunt tightly on him and sucked him with it. She milked him. She was jerking him off with her cunt. She went faster, then slower, seeking for his natural rhythm.
She opened her eyes. Sean was staring down at her with a mixed look of amazement and gratitude.
He was beautiful.
Then she felt a sudden tightening of his body and waves of heat like moist gusts of warm sea-air. She'd hit the rhythm. It was just a little faster than hers, but nothing to worry about. She locked into it and humped.
She was enough outside herself for a thought to flash across her mind.
Each person had his own unique sexual rhythm. It was as much his own as his fingertips or facial features. It was like a train running perpetually at a certain speed inside him. It was more than just the rhythm of fucking. It was the rhythm of a whole sexual existence. It determined how often that person wanted or needed sex, and so in a way sometimes near, sometimes remote, exerted an influence over all of the rest of his life. You could see or sense it in the way a person walked, talked, gestured, danced… And if you wanted to get on a particular person's train and ride it to the end of the line you had to get on your horse like a bandit and sit beside the tracks and wait till the train came along… laboring up a grade, slowly enough for you to ride along beside it and jump up. And then you had to run up to the engine across the tops of the cars and get right up there behind the headlight, hanging in there in the engineer's cabin, waiting for the pell-mell ride down the other side of the mountain.
If what got you excited more than anything else was that feeling of your lover's excitement things were easier.
If your lover felt the same way you were in heaven.
Sean was just about there. For a split-second Andrea'd been a selfish bitch but now she was a saint again. He'd never been with anyone like this in his life. He stared straight into her eyes and all he saw was passion. He could see her seeing right through him to the essence of his blind, mad hunger, and welcoming it.
She was right up behind his headlight and he was right up behind hers. They were past the point of different trains. Their fireboxes were fused and the heat multiplied insanely.
There was one thing down between their legs: one eternal machine doing the one thing it was designed for; blowing up and breaking apart again.
One flesh machine. One machine of glistening, pulsating, thrusting, grasping fury. One battery with two poles-earth and sky. One womb drawing forth the cosmic satisfaction of the lightning-bolt.
Sean and Andrea stared at each other and they knew they were going to hit it big.
They were going to smack that see-saw hard with the big hammer and the gong in the sky was going to clang like a mother. They were going to take home the giant pink teddy-bear.
The giant pink teddy-bear!
Maybe that's what it would look like afterward. Ludicrous. Grotesque. Sham. Cotton-candy fur. A shyster's prize. Eat it all, kiddies, 'cause it won't keep! But now it was the whole big brassy end of life.
He shoved.
She reached.
She shoved.
He reached.
Somewhere, far off, a bee droned in the clover.
Wavelets shattered with brittle fancy as a sailboat tacked aimlessly in and out of a harbor.
Fluid changed bodies.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ten minutes later the sound of a buzzer cut across the euphoric haze of stoned satisfaction that pervaded the bedroom and Sean hurriedly retrieved his pants and answered the door to receive their food. Andrea stayed in bed while he clanked around the kitchen. In minutes he appeared wheeling a cartful of Chateaubriand, broccoli with hollandaise sauce, baked potatoes, and chocolate mousse for desert. The necks of two Dom Perignon bottles protruded absurdly from a yellow plastic scrubbing-bucket crammed with ice.
"Jesus Christ, you really do know somebody. This shit looks like it came from Le Pavilion."
"Le Pavilion's been closed for two years. There's a little French restaurant over on 86th near Broadway. I helped the chef's son get his first novel published. Consequently… "
I see.
For the next forty-five minutes they ate in deliberate silence, savoring the delicately seasoned food and feeling the tingle of tiny bubbles as the champagne flowed freely from the bottles through long-stemmed glasses and down their throats. When they were done Andre trotted off to get another joint and they smoked contemplatively. "It really is incredible," they both were thinking. "Incredible. One minute life looks so – humdrum and boring, and the next minute-POW!"
Finally Andrea broke the silence. "What would you like for dessert?"
He grinned. "Wasn't the mousse enough?"
"The moose made me horny." "Unh huh. Well, how about if I leave it up to you?"
"OK. Fuck me in the ass."
"With pleasure. However, I find in my notes from the inventory that you need some preparation for that You'll have to instruct me."
"Ha. Ok, let's see." She threw aside a napkin and revealed her mousse dish, which still had a large bite lingering in it. "Perfect. Let me excuse myself for a minute." She got up, then leaned over the bed at him. "If I'm going to ask you to eat mousee out of my asshole the least I can do is make sure it's nice and clean." She trotted off to the bathroom.
Sean already had a hell of a hard-on. This chick was entirely too much. Andrea returned a minute or so later and bent over my side of the bed and spread her cheeks. "Pass inspection?"
"Son of a bitch. What a beautiful asshole. Yeah, it passes."
"Glad you like it." She crawled into bed and bunched up a couple of pillows at the headboard while Sean cleared the dinner trays off. By the time he was done she'd flattened her chest on a pillow with the mousse dish by her side and her ass waving in the air like a flag. He sat cross-legged behind her absent-mindedly playing with himself as she dipped her fingers into the remains of the fluffy chocolate goo. With one hand she pulled her left cheek up and out and with the other she spread mousse around the opening and crammed some into it. "It would help if you fingered my clit a little. Gets me into it." Sean obliged, his eyes glued to her finger as it stroked in and out of her hole widening and loosening it. "Ok. Now your job is to tongue it all out. After you're done… there's a tube of KY in the drawer of the night stand there. With that you ought to be able to get two fingers all the way in. After that-fuck away. Only be a little careful. That's a hell of a big cock you've got there, and I'm not all that used to this."
Sean kneeled behind her and applied his tongue to her hole. He licked her clean around the outside and then, stopping once in a while to sip from his champagne glass and offer Andrea a swig, he began to penetrate.
At first things went slowly, and Sean was very gentle. He kept his arm curled around her thigh and his finger on her clit, timing the probings of his tongue with the rhythm of her slowly churning hips against his finger.
"Aaaah. That's just right," Andrea commented, as he circled his tongue delicately around the creased mouth of the hole and felt it loosening and going smooth. "Really nice." She reached back to grab her ass cheeks and spread herself wide. Sean's cock oozed as she pulled up and out and offered herself generously to him. Once in a while he pulled back to look. Already the hole was wider than it had been during the exhibition in the living room.
"The trick is concentration," Andrea observed. "I suppose lots of chicks think being fucked in the ass couldn't possibly be fun. How the hell could a whole cock fit up there? But when you figure that homosexuals do it all the time… homosexual males, that is." She tugged a little harder. "How's it look? It's starting to feel pretty open… "