Unknown - Bea_s pony

"I'll get in on that bet, too," I said. "There may be a lot of angles here you haven't even thought of, Mister Attorney." I said it and wasn't even sure myself what I meant by it. It had an effect on him.

"What's happening over here?" Helen interrupted.

Somers was looking at me and thinking.

"What do you say we get more comfortable?" John suggested. "Bea, I'll show you the rest of the house." He walked over to the wall and turned a switch, dimming the lights in the room to a very low level. "Come on," be said.

I got up and followed John to a stairway leading up to the balcony. We walked up together, arm in arm. When we reached the top, he took me in his arms and kissed me. All I could think of was Somers down below, watching my every move.

"Your mind's not on your work," John informed me.

"Your friend. How does Pat get along with him?" I asked.

"Hate each other's guts, naturally," John informed me.

"Seriously," I urged.

"Well, actually, he thinks Pat would make a good wife for me, like he thinks of a wife, a housekeeper, mother, mistress combination thing. But in reality I don't think he wants me to get married at all. We've been bachelors all our lives, and he sees no reason to change."

We walked slowly down a corridor to a large bedroom.

"This is the master bedroom," he said, turning up a dimmer switch. Several colorful paintings on the walls attracted my attention.

"Who did all these wonderful paintings?" I asked.

"You're looking at him."

"John, you're an artist!" I exclaimed, amazed I hadn't found it out sooner. "You must think me awfully uninterested in you." It had not even occurred to me before to ask him what he did.

He seemed embarrassed. "Some of these are Pat's."

"Those downstairs, are they all yours?" I asked.

He nodded.

I shut the door and walked over to the bed, unbuttoning my blouse. I sat down on the bed to remove my shoes.

"You're not bothered, knowing this belongs to someone else?" he inquired.

"I said no strings. How could I be bothered?" I lied. I was down to my bra and panties when he came over and sat down beside me.

"I had hoped downstairs, after you had found out, that it might make a difference," he revealed.

He was showing me a side of him I didn't like. He was sincere in letting me know he cared, but I felt it was unfair under the circumstances.

I cared about him, too, but I wasn't sure how much. I was certain, though, that if I admitted to caring, the very act of admission and its results were likely to be out of all proportion to the game.

"Let's just make love," I said, lying down on the bed.

He got up to dim the lights and began undressing very slowly and quietly. I could hear the voice of Somers downstairs talking very loudly, followed by Helen's laughter.

Lying naked on the large bed I was conscious for the first time in ages of being outside my body. I was standing beside the bed looking down at my nakedness, only it wasn't me looking but somebody that had part of me forever inside him, and that part made it be me.

And it wasn't me lying on the bed, but somebody that had a part of me forever inside her, and that part of it made it be me.

John climbed up on the bed. In the dim light I saw his erection bobbing between his legs and I wondered what part of me he was going to touch first. I felt his fingers close over one knee, linger a moment, and then move forward caressing my hip.

He moved his knees in close, and I felt the hair on his legs brush against my thighs. As he moved forward the hardness of his body enveloped me and brought tears to my eyes. Closing my eyes tightly, I fought them back and reached up around him with my arms.

I opened my legs for him to enter as he must, for what other way is there? The rigid penis with the bulging head so hard and yet so soft, a velvet cushion perched on the end of a steel rod, punched lightly at my vulva.

My vagina was drier than usual, and the fat organ did not immediately penetrate. It pushed in very slowly, the want of lubrication giving me the impression his prick was much bigger than it was. I could feel the pressure of entry tugging at the skin as the shaft moved relentlessly forward.

"Oh, John," I whispered.

The feeling of tightness persisted even after he was in and began pumping the organ back and forth. The juices started flowing then, generously covering his rod, and the tugging ceased. He drove deeper and deeper, determined to make his penetration of me a part of his life and my life together.

I could feel his heaving chest as it expanded against my breasts, the hard ribs of him against the soft flesh of me. He was kissing the tears off my face and then kissing the source of those tears. He was able to do that.

I was letting myself go with him, not holding back, and it brought me to climax quickly. The churning of the stiff male instrument deep within me soon brought little pulses of pleasureful feeling at the end of each downstroke, each one greater than the one before. They began to build to such intensity that I was hurting for release. And I needed release. I needed it and wanted it that moment more than I ever had.

I clutched him to me as the exploding pleasure suddenly spread throughout my system, filling every nerve and every capillary. It spread like morphine through a dope-starved addict's body, reaching out to toe and fingertip alike, bringing peace and love and happiness.

And while I lay there filled with ecstasy, he came inside me, filling me with the hot butter from his balls, pumping shot after shot of the sperm that had been his, which he now willingly, gladly gave to me in quick, hard spurts.

We lay in each other's arms for a long time, sleeping the sleep of two who had seized a moment without reservations, without guilt, and had won.

I awoke after dreaming dreams that left my memory on awakening. Dreams that left only sadness at having forgotten the Eden I must have been dreaming about.

I felt the bed for John and he was no longer on it. Where had he gone? Perhaps he was still in the room. I called his name softly and got no reply. I noticed the lights had been turned all the way off.

"John!" I called, more loudly.

"How about John's alter ego?" a voice I recognized at once declared.

My first thought was, Why did John let this happen? My second was irritation at the first. I was independent, wasn't I? John was not my lord protector, nor did I want him to be.

"Methinks the lady's silence doth protest too much," Somers said.

"What in hell are you doing in here?" I asked, controlled fury in my tone. "Get out!"

"Melodrama from the lady. Get out at once, you cad, you scoundrel!" he declared in mock theatrical tones.

I peered through the darkness of the room. He was somewhere over near the door. A likely place, I thought. Cut me off if I made a run for it.

"Somers," I began, "You wanted me to tell you that I didn't hate you tonight. Now it's my turn to ask why you dislike me so much."

The voice moved over nearer the bed. "I don't dislike you, Beatrice. I'm afraid of you. There is something in you that threatens me."

He was talking like a crazy person. "You've seen too many horror movies," I said. "Get out of here!" It was hard to take him seriously, talking nonsense like that.

Suddenly the lights came on full blast. I saw him then, about midway between the door and the bed. He was standing stark naked with an erect penis tilting off at an angle. It was somewhat short but fat. He seemed to enjoy his exhibition of it.

I got up off the bed like a shot and started hunting for my clothes. Someone had taken them from the floor where I had dropped them.

"Clothes are useless commodities, aren't they?" he said. "Especially when there is lovemaking to be enjoyed."