Perry Scope - When the loving gets rough

"Oh?" Al pretended casualness. "A male or female?"

Karen giggled. "Female, silly. A beautiful girl named Patricia Collins. I'd love to invite her over some evening, but I'm afraid you might fall madly in love with her." Karen wondered if she were slightly hysterical again. Why was she saying all this? What was she trying to do to Al? Or to herself?

"Not if I have you." Allen reached out and pulled her gently to his chest. She moved to him willingly. "Do I have you, Karen?"

Suddenly she felt ashamed of herself. He was her husband. What was she trying to do to them? She hadn't given him a chance. She loved him – at least, she had loved him once. It couldn't be dead, not all she had felt for him. "Yes, Al, of course."

He ducked his head and kissed her softly on the lips. "Karen, let me love you. Don't fight me anymore. Please!"

The urgency and hunger in his voice tugged at Karen's heart. She put her arms around the man, drawing him even closer to her. Maybe this could be a new start for them. Why not? She wanted… needed loving now. Never before had she longed for flesh against her own the way she did now.

When they kissed again, Karen slipped her hot tongue between Al's lips. She gloried now in the way his body was responding to her touch. She helped him pull the gown from her lush body. Her nipples, hard now with desire, welcomed his mouth. The teeth gnawed gently at the tender flesh while Karen moaned as the act sent shivers through her body. She was relaxed, magically readied for him and unafraid.

Karen was beginning to guess at this wonderful thing that she had read about, hoped for, dreamed about. A trembling was starting deep in her belly.

She was giving in to it gratefully. What did it matter if this grave excitement had been stimulated by a girl, a strange, beautiful girl. All Karen knew or cared about was that the moment she had so badly longed for was nearing.

Al reached for the soft waiting flesh between the satiny thighs. His fingers hesitated at the entrance-way to his wife's love spot. The dewy moistness excited him even more. For the very first time, Karen was slickly wet – the way women ready for love were supposed to be. He loved this unexpected blast of heat, the yielding tightness of her… He took his time running a finger experimentally down the hot path before enlarging it with his manhood. He wanted nothing more in this world but to lose himself inside her, bury his trembling sex in the pit of her womb.

He was between her legs in an instant; hurriedly replacing his finger with the swollen tip of his rigid erection. As always, before the very first plunge into her belly, Al felt himself swell even more, until the aching flesh threatened to burst before reaching its destination. He couldn't wait, not another second. He arched his back and wildly thrust himself into her, widening and lengthening the tender inner flesh with deep jabs that went on and on.

"Oh, baby, baby, Karen…" Al moved over her.

"Oh, Al!" she groaned. "It… feels… wonderful…" Strange words, words she had never expected to say to her husband, but she meant it. He felt wonderful to her now. There was no pain, in fact she felt that even pain might have increased the wild passion which was building in her.

Al tried to control himself. But the way Karen was responding to him was driving him beyond control. He finished suddenly, kissing her gratefully as his body calmed itself.

Karen kissed him back and tried to wait patiently for his body to become excited again. She let her lips slip lightly to the side of his stubbly face, breathing softly in his ear. She was so near that elusive paradise she knew she must enter to live.

He was so sleepy. He was being rocked to sleep on a delicately rounded cradle of loveliness. His pillow was a warm, vibrant breast. A generous plane of white flesh was his cushion. He wanted to drift off like this, seduced into sleep by this same wonderful creature who had just brought him so much joy. "I'm so beat, baby…" he whispered sleepily.

Karen hadn't felt the discomfort of the broken spring under her back before. But now it bruised her suddenly frozen flesh. He couldn't be doing this to her! Not now! Not after she had at last come to life in his arms.

Allen felt the sudden stiffness of her body and understood. He felt humiliated and sorry. He also felt a hot flash of anger. Every time he tried to be a man with her she always destroyed it! In the past by not responding, and now by being dissatisfied with him! "I'm just too tired now, honey," he whispered, trying to be what she said he never was – understanding. He kept his anger tightly in check.

"The mind is willing but the flesh is weak…" he kidded softly.

Karen felt removed from her husband, yet, her body still cried out for fulfillment. She remembered that novel she had read long ago, the one from which she had learned that term Pat used – gay. She remembered what it was the two girls in the book had done to each other. She thought of Pat, reddened, then forced herself to put the girl out of her mind. She thought again of the act, though. "Al…" she whispered desperately, her flesh too hungry to care anymore about anything else. "There… there are other ways…" She was intensely glad of the dark. She knew her face was furiously on fire.

Allen jerked away from his wife suddenly. He knew what she meant. He remembered the things boys at school had said about it, the ugly, derogatory terms they… Strangely, the thought of her request stimulated him. His body was young, quick to respond despite the exhaustion in him. "No!" he hissed accusingly. She was trying to steal whatever remained of his masculinity. Yet her words had stimulated him. He grabbed her roughly and started to make love to her as before. That was what she had wanted first, and now he was ready for her again. She would have to settle for that. He was a man, not a pervert.

Karen was alone again, the meaningless love of her husband a trial on her now cold body. He was again repugnant to her. Once more he had disregarded her needs, her desires. Again he was using her small body as a receptacle for his own lust. The tears she had expected to shed in ecstasy fell now as her misery increased. She couldn't stand him on her another moment, using her, masturbating inside her, forgetting her in his solitary pleasure.

Again, as she lay under Allen, taking his final thrusts unprotestingly, Karen thought of the dark girl whose eyes had penetrated her own that evening, and felt sure that Pat Collins would never make her do things she didn't want to do. Pat would be sensitive and gentle with her. Pat would understand her loneliness when she should be feeling like a part of something wonderful. Pat would not leave her to die without ever letting her live.

Karen found herself wishing wildly that it were Pat with her now, instead of Allen… instead of any man.

A thin youth perched on a stool, and with a high womanish voice sang love songs of his invention. His delicate small-boned fingers plucked out a thin, wispy accompaniment. His ragged blond beard did little to disguise his effeminacy to which his song passionately confessed.

But Pat wasn't looking at the boy. Her watery eyes swam over the coffeehouse once more. The dainty heart-shaped face wasn't among the tightly packed mass of pretty, darkly outlined faces.

"Boy of the woods, youth of the forest… Sob once more against the virile breast of the wooden earth. Climb the grassy crest… in my arms again find new birth."

Pat tried to shut her ears to the pseudo-feminine singing. The coffeehouse, usually a favorite spot, was irritating her tonight. This faggot with his lovesick songs, this collection of bodies which didn't include the one she wanted. Pat hadn't been able to get the girl out of her mind since last night. Karen! Why wasn't she here?