Ken Follett - Lie down with lions

"Ouch! Not many, really ... I swear!"

"What do you do when you haven't got a girl?"

"Take three guesses."

She was not to be put off. "Do you do it with your hand?"

"Aw, shucks, Miz Janey, I'se bashful."

"You do," she said triumphantly. "What do you think about while you're doing it?"

"Would you believe Princess Diana?"

"No."

"Now I am embarrassed."

Jane was consumed with curiosity. "You have to tell the truth."

"Pam Ewing."

"Who the hell is she?"

"You have been out of touch. She's Bobby Ewing's wife, in Dallas."

Jane remembered the television show and the actress, and she was astonished. "You can't be serious."

"You asked for the truth."

"But she's made of plastic!"

"We're talking fantasy here."

"Can't you fantasize a liberated woman?"

"Fantasy is no place for politics."

"I'm shocked." She hesitated. "How do you do it?"

"What?"

"What you do. With your hand."

"Kind of like what you're doing, but harder."

"Show me."

"I'm not just embarrassed now," he said. "I'm mortified."

"Please. Please show me. I've always wanted to see a man do that. I've never had the nerve to ask before—if you turn me down I may never know." She took his hand and placed it where hers had been.

After a moment he started to move his hand slowly. He made several rather half-hearted strokes, men he sighed, closed his eyes and started to rub it in earnest.

"You're so rough with it!" she exclaimed.

He stopped. "I can't do this . . . unless you do it too."

"It's a deal," she said eagerly. Quickly she slipped off her trousers and panties. She knelt beside him and started to stroke herself.

"Come closer," he said. His voice sounded a little hoarse. "I can't see you."

He was lying flat on his back. She shuffled closer until she was kneeling upright beside his head, with the moonlight silvering her nipples and her pubic hair. He started to rub his prick again, faster this time, and he stared at her hand as if transfixed as she caressed herself.

"Oh, Jane," he said.

She began to enjoy the familiar darts of pleasure spreading from her fingertips. She saw Ellis's hips start to move up and down in rhythm with his hand. "I want you to come," she said. "I want to see it shoot out." Part of her was shocked at herself, but that part was swamped by excitement and desire.

He groaned. She looked at his face. His mouth was open and he was breathing hard. His eyes were fixed on her cunt. She stroked the lips with her middle finger. "Put your finger in," he breathed. "I want to see your finger go inside."

That was something she did not normally do. She pushed her fingertip inside. It felt smooth and slippery. She put it all the way in. He gasped, and because he was so excited by what she was doing, she got turned on, too. She turned her gaze back to his prick. His hips jerked faster as he fucked his hand. She moved her finger in and out of her cunt with mounting pleasure. Suddenly he arched his back, thrusting his pelvis high in the air and groaning, and a streak of white semen shot out from him. Involuntarily

Jane cried "Oh, my God!" then as she gazed, fascinated, at the tiny hole in the end of his organ, another jet came, and another, and a fourth, spurting up into the air, gleaming in the moonlight and landing on his chest and her arm and in her hair; and then when he collapsed, she herself was racked by spasms of pleasure fired by her fast-moving finger until she, too, was exhausted.

She slumped, lying beside him on the sleeping bag with her head on his thigh. His prick was still stiff. She leaned over weakly and kissed it. She could taste a trace of salty semen on the end. She felt his face nuzzle between her thighs in response.

For a while they were quiet. The only sounds were their breathing and the rushing river on the far side of the Valley. Jane looked at the stars. They were very bright, and there were no clouds. The night air was becoming cooler. We'll have to get inside this sleeping bag before too long, she thought. She looked forward to falling asleep close to him.

"Are we weird?" said Ellis.

"Oh, yes," she said.

His prick had fallen sideways and lay on his belly. She teased the red-gold hair of his groin with her fingertips. She had almost forgotten what it was like to make love to Ellis. He was so different from Jean-Pierre. Jean-Pierre liked a lot of preparation: bath oil, scent, candlelight, wine, violins. He was a fastidious lover. He liked her to wash before making love, and he always hurried to the bathroom afterward. He would never touch her while she had her period, and he certainly would not have sucked her breasts and swallowed the milk as Ellis had. Ellis would do anything, she thought, and the more unhygienic the better. She grinned in the dark. It occurred to her that she had never been completely convinced that Jean-Pierre actually liked performing oral sex, good at it though he was. With Ellis there was no doubt.

The thought made her want him to do it. She opened her thighs invitingly. She felt him kiss her, his lips brushing the wiry hair, then his tongue started to probe lasciviously between the folds of her lips. After a while he rolled her onto her back, knelt between her thighs, and lifted her legs over his shoulders. She felt utterly naked, terribly open and vulnerable and yet greatly cherished. His tongue moved in a long, slow curve, starting at the base of her spine—Oh, God, she thought, / remember how he does this—licking along the cleft of her buttocks, pausing to push deep into her vagina, then lifting to tease the sensitive skin where the lips met and the tingling clitoris between them. After seven or eight long licks she held his head over her clitoris, making him concentrate on mat, and she began to lift and lower her hips, telling him by the pressure of her fingertips on his temples to lick harder or more lightly, higher or lower, left or right. She felt his hand on her cunt, pushing into the moist interior, and guessed what he was going to do: a moment later he withdrew his hand, and then pushed a wet finger slowly into her anus. She remembered how shocked she had been the first time he did that, and how quickly she had grown to like it. Jean-Pierre would never do mat in a million years. As the muscles of her body began to tense for the climax, the thought came to her that she had missed Ellis more than she had ever admitted to herself; indeed, the reason she had been so angry with him for so long was that she had continued to love him all along, and she loved him still; and as she admitted it, a terrible weight lifted from her mind and she started to come, shaking like a tree in a gale, and Ellis, knowing what she liked, thrust his tongue deep inside her while she ground her sex frantically against his face.

It seemed it would go on forever. Each time the sensations eased, he would thrust his finger deeper into her ass, or lick her clitoris, or bite the lips of her cunt, and it would start all over again; until, out of sheer exhaustion, she pleaded: "Stop, stop, I've no energy left, it will kill me," and at last he lifted his face from her cunt and lowered her legs to the ground.

He leaned over her, resting his weight on his hands, and kissed her mouth. The smell of her cunt was in his beard. She lay prone, too tired to open her eyes, too tired even to

kiss him back. She felt his hand on her cunt, opening it, then his prick nosing in, and she thought He got hard again quickly and then It's been so long oh God it feels good.

He began to move in and out, slowly at first and then faster. She opened her eyes. His face was above hers and he was gazing at her. Then he bent his neck and looked down to where their bodies were joined. His eyes widened and his mouth opened as he watched his prick going in and out of her cunt, and the sight so inflamed him that she wished she could see it, too. Suddenly he slowed his pace, thrusting deeper, and she remembered mat he did this before the climax. He looked into her eyes. "Kiss me while I come," he said, and he lowered his cunt-smelling lips to hers. She thrust her tongue into his mouth. She loved it when he came. His back arched and his head lifted, and he gave a cry like a wild animal, and she felt him spurt inside her.