Chapitre 2927: ORION, MY BELOVED HUNTER
The Call
As he thought back on it, he thought he could remember her from several years ago when he first downloaded her gorgeous pictures from the All Over 35 internet site. She was the most beautiful and arousing creature he'd seen, and that included several girls he dated in college.
Laurel Madison was a beauty somewhere in her thirties or early forties. She had coal black hair that fell thickly about her striking face and to her shoulders. Hers were the most piercing blue eyes Hunter Carroll ever felt drill into his, and though it may have been partly because of the manner in which she applied her eyeliner and mascara, she mesmerized him.
Her face was mature, yet she radiated a lusty desire for whoever might be viewing her erotic pictures. Her lips were a slash of wet red that he longed to taste and feel. Her body was simply stunning, and she had a gorgeous creamy skin that he'd never seen characteristic of any other woman...'Believe me,' he thought, 'I've got the files of ten thousand selected erotic photos to bear that out.' He'd collected every picture of this beauty he could scarf up from anywhere and carefully titled them, then filed them in her folder in his computer.
Then she vanished. Completely. It was as if she had never existed. Hunter even tried to contact the All Over 35 site to see what had happened or if she would continue making pictures. No answer. Big surprise, that...these days nobody cares enough to respond to a customer. That was four years ago.
At any rate, he went on about his professional life as a financial advisor with a couple of sidelines, one in antique and modern weapon repair, the second in photography when he had the spare time. Financial advisor was not exactly a babe magnet when it came to meeting new girls, though he had done extremely well; overall his experience there resembled a desert wasteland.
'Yep,' he thought, 'I'm pretty sure it had a lot to do with the title of the job and whatever it was that girls are looking for today. Nope, I don't think it had much to do with me personally, at least appearance-wise.'
He'd always worked hard physically, training himself for some time in the future when he imagined he'd be a sort of "equalizer" as another sideline. He envisioned himself being strong, skilled, dangerous, and willing to fade into the background to aid some helpless or defenseless person who had been royally screwed by one of the 'elites' and they had gotten away with it. Just the sort of characteristics that an equalizer would have to have.
'I believe I actually overdid it on the fade-into-the-background aspect of my plans,' he mused.
Hunter Carroll was over six feet tall and had a powerful build, thanks to his parents' fine genes. He was good-looking in the generic sense. A lifetime of summer part-time and then full-time hard work on loading docks reinforced that characteristic during and after college. Along the way he earned three black belts in Isshin Ryu, an Okinawan martial art, because it had always been a dream. That along with some detailed and friendly but exceedingly painful instruction by a couple of SEAL friends he'd made along the way gave him the specific tools necessary to come out on top of most dangerous situations a person might encounter.
But if you're smart, you don't advertise those as you walk around daily. To be effective, they have to reside deep in the background, to be brought into action only when you must surprise an enemy and protect yourself or someone else. Not exactly date material a guy can advertise.
And so here he was heading for the mountains of northeast Alabama in mid-fall for a few days' break at a cabin he'd bought from a friend, one located near Little River Canyon. He needed to do some planning and strategizing for his businesses and wanted to simply kick back on the deck and listen to the forest. 'I'm like that,' he thought with a smile.
He had just stopped for gas and a soda at a little railroad stop called Valley Head when his cell phone chimed the "Song of the Volga Boatmen," something guaranteed to get stares at lunch but not women.
"Hunter, this is Reagan Laribee. You probably don't remember me, but I'm your aunt on your father's side of the family. For that matter, you may not even know me." She stopped, waiting for my response.
"Reagan, actually I do recall Dad mentioning you, but I don't think we've ever met, have we?"
"No, I regret that we haven't. Hunter, I need your help. I would never inconvenience you like this if I didn't need you badly. I wonder if there is any way I can get where you are, even for just a few hours. I need your assessment of something special and an idea about something I must do for my safety. This is a matter about which I can't get to first base with the police."
"Reagan, of course I'll be happy to meet with you. Where are you right now?"
"Chattanooga, at this minute. I'll go anywhere you are."
"Reagan, Lady Luck just shined on us. I'm on my way to a cabin I bought near Little River Canyon in northeast Alabama. If I tell you how to get here, could you join me for however long you wish? It's quiet here, and nobody else will want us because nobody else knows where we are."
"Oh, Hunter, that's a godsend. I am familiar with that area, and if you'll tell me where you are, I'll program it into my Garman GPS system. I'm finishing a conference here and I can be there in about four hours. Is that all right?"
"It's fine, Reagan. I'm just arriving in a few minutes, and that time will give me what I need to get us some food and open this place so that it doesn't smell like cross between a locker room and an abandoned warehouse."
He heard her chuckle at this, but underneath he heard something else, a note of worry or pain or...something. They said their goodbyes and hung up. He then set about throwing open the doors and windows to air out the place and plugging in the refrigerator and oven; in about an hour he closed up made a trip down the mountain to the local general store where he jawboned with the folks there. After that he bought a healthy stock of groceries. The first was, of course, miles out in front of the second in importance.
Although the day was beautiful as the sun began its slow descent through the trees of yellow, gold, red, brown and green, the word at the store was that a storm was coming from out west and would lock everybody in starting late tonight. Might be followed by a cold snap, too. He collected the phone numbers of the sheriff, store manager, his all-too-attractive and physically blessed teenage assistant who had no compunction about staring a hole through him, and the local towing service. Then he headed back to the cabin.
A chill lightly frosted the air as he arrived at the cabin, so he started a fire and brought in logs to keep it going. You just never knew.
2
Taking Care of Business
An hour later, following his unpacking and getting a bed ready for Reagan in the only bedroom, he heard her vehicle crunching the gravel in front of the house. He went to the door and opened it to welcome her as she got out of her Hyundai Santa Fe, but his welcome turned to concern when he saw her stagger and nearly fall. He hurried down to assist her and then stood there stunned as if someone had slapped him.
Before him stood the exquisite clone of Laurel Madison at whose throne he'd worshipped for those delightful years he'd collected her erotica. But this lady was in trouble. He put his arm about her and guided her up the few steps and into the cabin where he led her to the couch before the fire.
"Reagan, you are burning up with fever. We can talk later; right now the job is to get you settled and get some help before the storm sets in later tonight."
"Oh, Hunter," she smiled wanly and whispered in obvious pain, "I am so sorry for this. I would never...," she began. Then he interrupted her with a smile.
"Reagan, this is no trouble for me. I'm going to call the doctor down at the store; he was there an hour ago when I bought groceries for us and I suspect he still is, given the intensity of his tall tale telling."
A quick call found the doctor indeed still holding forth in the store. He promised to arrive in half an hour, and was as good as his word.
"M' dear, you have a royal case of the flu and you are dehydrated. This is a good place to be, 'cause you aren't going anywhere else for a spell."
Doc Campbell gave Hunter instructions about taking care of her and promised to return in a while with a prescription to ease her pain. On his way out of the cabin, he whispered to Hunter, "Where, oh where did you find a gorgeous lady like that? Son, there isn't anything else on this mountain that can hold a candle to her. Wish I was going to be locked in with her," he grinned and winked.
"Welll, you wouldn't believe me if I told you how this came about," said Hunter, "but I...we...really appreciate your help."
Back inside he sat on the couch to talk with his guest. "Reagan, you are a sick lady. You've got the flu, and you need rest. So with your permission, here's what I'm going to do. I've made the bed for you in the bedroom, I'm going to unpack your bag and arrange your things, and then I'm going to fix you something to eat. Let's start with soup, how about that? And some crackers with cheese. Sound okay?"
She nodded painfully, and he went to the bedroom to start unpacking. During his work he kept thinking how closely Reagan resembled Laurel Madison; despite her being sick, the woman in the next room looked just like her, add a few years that had done nothing to alter her appearance. She was almost intimidating, she was so beautiful.
When he returned, she was asleep on the couch, so he arranged her feet in a more comfortable position, removed her shoes and pulled her short skirt out from beneath her to straighten it. She whispered, "Thank you, Hunter," so low that he barely heard her.
The night closed in around them as she slept and the wind rose outside. The house was built well and tight, and they were at least ready for whatever came during the coming week. Before starting supper, Hunter sat back in his chair across from his sick guest on the couch. He knew her; it had to be her, yet the likelihood of him actually running into the woman of his sensuous imaginings and his desires was so remote as to be ridiculous.
There was that coal black hair, now longer, framing that unforgettable face. The mascara and eyeliner was the same and the first thing he had noticed about her was those piercing blue eyes. They always seemed huge. The red, moist, inviting lips were the same. Under her open black distressed leather jacket she wore a sheer white long-sleeve blouse and beneath it something that passed delightfully for a light, airy brassiere. It concealed her shapely full breasts, yet it didn't. He could see the outlines of her nipples.
Then there was that still-flawless white skin. In the years after she had vanished from the internet, he still had never seen another woman with such creamy smooth flesh. And not a sign of any body hair other than those heavy locks on her head. At least that was all he could see for now with her skirt on. Her nails were painted the same liquid red.
It had to be. This was his Laurel Madison. But how had she ended up here? And what could he do to help her?
At that moment she moaned with the rising pain in her joints and the unrelenting fever. One thing was certain...if she were to be comfortable, he would have to undress her and get her ready for a time in bed.
"Reagan, I'm not sure how you feel about this, but you are really sick. I need to take off your clothes to make you more comfortable. I saw a lemon-colored gown in your luggage; may I undress you and put that on? Kinda presumptuous, I know, but still necessary."
She heard him through her fog and nodded weakly, offering no resistance to his seeing her completely naked. At his urging and with his help she sat up for him to remove her blouse and bra. Her breasts were milky white, large and beautiful; her nipples were firm and he couldn't tell if she was slightly aroused or they were just naturally pointed like that. He hoped it was the latter. 'You are gross,' he thought to himself, 'getting aroused with a truly sick woman. Grow up, okay?'
He removed her shoes, noting that she wore no hosiery, then he unfastened her skirt and drew it down. She wore a tiny white thong panty; he had planned to leave whatever underwear he found, but she shook her head and whispered, "Please, take it off, too. That's alright."
He drew a sheet over her, ensuring that her feet were covered, then bent low to speak to her. "Reagan, I'll get the soup ready. Rest now and I'll wake you when it's ready."
She nodded slightly, having heard him but without the energy to speak.
He stood and headed for the kitchen area. This was that woman. She was that stunningly beautiful woman once separated from him by the vast distance between real presence and pictures on a website. She was Laurel Madison.
And all his questions would have to wait. The wind continued to rise, first sighing heavily through the surrounding pine forest, then bringing a hammering rain. The cabin was warm with the fire's glow, three wall lamps and one balsam-and-cedar-scented Yankee Candle. He prepared soup for them, set crackers and small slices of cheddar cheese on a plate, and carried it to the low table in front of the couch.
"Reagan, I'm sorry to wake you, but it's time for you to at least try to eat. I have some sweetened iced tea; would you like to drink that?"
She nodded and sat up. That was unexpected. There she was, topless, completely unconcerned as if being naked in front of a complete stranger was a normal occurrence, and utterly incredible. Even sick, she was a thing of a man's dreams.
He sat beside her on the couch and fed her the soup, then handed her the crackers and cheese one-by-one. "You probably think I am real trash, Hunter, sitting around naked and we've never even met. I'm sorry, please forgive me. I just feel so awful that I don't care."
"Wellll, actually," he smiled rather sheepishly, "it's a pleasant break and a real treat compared to what I usually have to deal with. But I promise to not hold it against you."
She actually laughed at his double entendre, and only then did he realize what he had said. He reddened with embarrassment, and she drew his face to hers, kissing him lightly on his cheek.
"Thank you, my sweet friend. And do not be embarrassed. I appreciate the compliment more than you know."
A few moments passed in silence as she ate, punctuated by the groaning and sighing of the weather outside, then she said softly, "That's enough, Hunter. Thank you. Help me to lie down again."
"Would you rather I get your gown and help you into the bedroom?"
"No, no. This is very nice. And being near the fire and having you close makes me feel secure. It's been a long, long time..."
Her voice trailed off as she collapsed back into a fitful sleep. He tried to not notice that as she turned on her side her breasts shifted softly, heavily to lie upon her right arm and the lucky cushions of the couch.
"Just got to be a teenager, don't you, Carroll?" he muttered disgustedly.
3
A Rainy, Windy Day and Reagan
Hunter awoke well before his guest and set about trying to quietly prepare for their day without disturbing Reagan. Easier said than done, He managed to get dressed in a gray tee shirt, black jeans and casual shoes, then he trimmed the wick on the scented candle and lit it. He noticed that she was quietly watching him.
"Well, hello there!" he announced, hoping to cheer her on this gray but cozy day.
"Hi," she answered shyly as if she were a small girl. She sat up and brought her feet around to the floor, the sheet falling away as she did so. She seemed to not notice. "Hunter, please come and sit by me."
"You know, a gorgeous woman must be careful with such acts; otherwise, a clumsy younger man in the same room might come apart completely with sexual shock and awe," he goofed to her, trying to keep from focusing on what both of them knew he desired.
He sat down beside her and stared into her eyes. "I know you, Reagan," he whispered to her. "I have every picture of you that you ever mounted on the internet. Forgive me for being so crass as to say that I have always thought you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
She was silent for a moment, then she smiled again and said, "Yes, I am Laurel Madison. I thought no one remembered me from those pictures. Does it matter to you now, Hunter? If it does, I'll leave. I cannot make it difficult for you, and you have been so gracious to me."
"I don't ordinarily order people around," he remarked slowly with a wisdom that, to her, seemed to transcend his years by a huge margin. "but you, Laurel Madison Reagan Laribee, are going nowhere but right here."
To his surprise, she drew him close to her again, this time softly kissing him on his mouth. He felt her tongue slide wetly between his lips with an intimacy that made his blood boil. "You are a delight to me, Hunter, in a time when there has been little but grays in my life. Only one night has passed, yet it seems as if it has been a year, it has been so precious to me."
"Perhaps I need to be clearer, then," he chuckled softly as he stared into those blue eyes, instantly getting lost. "Do you have somewhere you have to go, Reagan? Because if not, will you stay here with me for a while? You said you needed my help, and in just this short time I've realized that I need yours."
"Yes, Hunter, I will." With that, she casually lifted his hand and placed it over her left breast, moving his fingers to massage her nipple.
"Then I'm expecting you, lovely lady. If a young stranger, intimidated by this beautiful woman, were to offer her breakfast with eggs, bacon and blueberry muffins, would that please her?"
"You know, said beautiful woman in considering the young stranger's offer has nearly forgotten her illness in light of his delectable suggestion. Yes, he would please her immensely, so much so that she would certainly feel it necessary to express her gratitude in some meaningful fashion." She smiled brightly, at his humor, despite her obvious discomfort.
With that they both laughed, and it seemed to him that something almost tangible fell away from the woman beside him. He also realized that she was still holding his hand on her breast and staring into his soul.
"Hunter, this is sweetly intimate and I want it to continue. But I do feel somewhat better. Maybe it's just that daybreak is here. Why don't you go ahead and get breakfast while I go into the bathroom and get more human? Do you have any recommendations for the dress for today?"
"Only suggestion I have is to be comfortable and casual. There is nothing about this day or this place that would remotely suggest anything else."
He stood and drew her up to her feet. The sheet fell away from her body and there she was, the same perfect, deliciously smooth body exposed and she not concerned at all. There was one difference; in her photos she was clean-shaven, but since that time she had grown a lush, deep, black sculptured bush of wavy, curly pubic fur. Every bit as dark in color as that of her head, her hair was a perfect contrast to the creamy texture and color of her tummy and thighs.
Even in this era when the clean-shaven look seemed to dominate women's intimate parts, this was the sort of forest that beckoned a person to bury their face in its thick softness before plunging into the moist warmth beneath.
To keep from totally losing it, Hunter turned to the kitchen area, remarking as he and she headed in opposite directions, "Give me a heads-up about ten minutes before you come back; that way it'll still be hot for us. Let me know if there is anything I can do for you."
"Thank you, I will."
On this gray and blustery day, another rain squall hit the house from its northwest quarter, hammering the windows there. He made the muffins, the rich smell of coffee filled the room, crisp bacon sat on the platter, and he began scrambling the eggs and cheese when she called out that she would be ready in five. He poured her coffee and waited, now hungry enough to devour the table itself.
"I appreciate your doing this, Hunter," she said as she strode into the room. Reagan was a study in sensuality. Her thick black hair framed her smooth face with those riveting huge blue eyes, and her lips were the moist, inviting red he remembered from her pictures.
She wore a long-sleeve semi-transparent blouse tied beneath her breasts, a delicious arrangement that revealed most of her full and bouncy chest and even her pink nipples when she shifted slightly. Her black denim slacks fit perfectly, contrasting with her red low heel pumps.
"I hope I'm appropriately dressed for this honor," she whispered with a girlish smile.
He finally remembered to breathe and was then able to speak. "I know you are still sick, beautiful lady, because I felt your face this morning. But you are the most gorgeous creation to ever occupy Little River Canyon."
As if she had known him intimately for years, she strode up to him, raised her face, and kissed him. She felt warm, and he knew the flu still had her in its grip, but she had done this for him, regardless of how she may have felt. His heart raced with her intimacy.
"Thank you," she murmured, continuing to stare at him as he moved to help her chair up to the table.
He served her in silence, trying to not act like he felt, still unbelieving that this woman of the erotic pictures was seated here with the intention of staying.
"Hunter, I asked to come here because I needed you. You know about my sensuous pictures on the internet several years ago, don't you?"
"Yes, Reagan, I'm pretty sure I have every one. But what happened? Suddenly you were gone and no one knew what had happened."
"I was married, and for the first five years with Aaron we had a good marriage. He knew about my erotic pictures and wanted me to continue. He said it made our marriage more exciting. But after a time, he changed. He got ugly, the verbal insults were difficult to take and cut my heart out. He got physical several times and I had to go to the hospital. I offered to stop the erotic pictures and he told me that if I did so, everything would be much better."
"Is that when you stopped posing for the photos?"
"Yes. But it didn't matter. Nothing changed. He hit me several times, and twice, again, I had to go to the hospital. I divorced him without even trying for support. I just wanted away from him. I read the tea leaves about a year before we split, and realized that I had to get a job; our marriage was nearly gone, and Aaron was not the sort of person who would cooperate with alimony judgments...or whatever. I just knew it would get nasty, and I needed to have work."
"What did you do?"
"Well, I was graduated from The University of Virginia with a degree in biology. While I was there I met one of my professors on an intimate level and we became lovers. She is a bit younger than I and is such a precious one; I love her dearly. She introduced me to the director of a lab headquartered in Chattanooga, I went to work there, acquired a master's degree while I worked, and...long-story-short...here I am."
"Sounds to me as if you are an unqualified success, except for the marriage, and you are much better off, Reagan, with him out of the picture. Do you still have the relationship with your professor?"
"Yes. Her name is Brenda and she's happily married, but her family knows about me, us, and they accept it. We meet several times each year for time together. That is much easier now that she and her husband have been transferred to Chattanooga. She is a professor in the university, and he is a specialist in long-term leasing of heavy equipment, road graders, front-end loaders, Bobcats of all kinds, and so on."
"Well...oops, grab that muffin," he laughed as he moved to get another and it rolled toward the table edge. "Thanks. I still wonder how I can help you."
She was silent for a few moments, then he noticed tears at the corners of her eyes. Finally, she put her face in her hands and sobbed. This caught him off guard; he wasn't sure what he ought to do. Since she was almost finished with her meal, he rose, moved to her chair, pulled her back, and led her to the couch where they sat.
She was still much too warm to be anywhere but in bed, but he realized that this time emotions trumped illness, and he needed to pay attention to her.
He put his arm around her, and she nestled against him on the couch. He was well aware of the beautiful cleavage of her nearly-bare breasts as she held to his arm. That blouse was a man-trap if ever there was one, and he loved every second of it. Still, however she worked it, Hunter felt there was nothing cheap about this situation. She was opening herself, yet she was not on the make.
"I have no close friends except for Brenda, and our lives are worlds apart. I'm mostly responsible for that, I just didn't trust anybody in my life after Aaron. The erotic pictures, you remember, were all still shots and most of them taken in our home. But no sexual scenes, though I would have enjoyed doing them. Nothing that involved anyone else.
"Aaron spent several years beating me down before I put an end to it. Your father told me not long ago that you were the finest man he'd ever known, that if he were to go into business anywhere doing anything you would be the one he'd go to for a partner. I thought maybe that I could trust you to help me."
The candle cast its woodsy scent around the room and the wind sang in the eaves of the cabin as rain continued to lash the house. The fire popped invitingly before them, and he remained quiet, holding her against him and asking nothing in return.
4
The Soft, Tasty Invasion
"Reagan, what can I do for you?" he asked gently in her ear.
"I need to know if anyone would still want me. There's no one...I don't even have any dreams to use to remember or become aroused with. I need...I need someone to want me, to...to...oh!" she cried, and the tears coursed down her face once more.
"Be still, Reagan. Just stay close and know that you don't have to do anything for me except this...I want you to stay with me as long as you want to. Please."
Her hair smelled of sea breeze and her perfume called to mind something deep and heady and classy.
"Would you like for me to move so you can get more comfortable?"
"No! No. Please stay with me and...and...," her voice trailed off to silence.
"Want to put your feet up on the table? Might be easier to settle back in front of this fire."
"Yes," and she used him for support as she lifted her feet onto the low table before them.
He looked down at her and saw her breasts touching in an enviable display of cleavage as she settled close with her arms by her side. Her nipples were pointed, and he was having difficulty getting comfortable since he was now enjoyably firm inside his pants. But he would not have disturbed this tableaux for anything.
They remained together for what seemed like hours, each relishing the silence and the other's presence. She dozed intermittently but objected when he offered to get up for a capsule to ease her pain.
"Is it wrong for me to feel safe with you and to want to stay here?" she wondered aloud.
"Thank you for that compliment," he replied. "You are safe, and you don't have to do anything to keep me interested, or to...ah...I mean...uh," He left off in confusion, not wanting to express what he was really thinking. She was wiser than he thought.
"Hunter, you mean that I don't have to do something physical to repay you. I think I already knew that when you led me to this couch earlier and sat by me. Will you now feel free to hold me and touch me and do soft and tender intimate things to me?"
She lifted his hand and again placed it on her bare breast, sighing with pleasure at his touch. Her flesh was as smooth and delicious as he'd imagined it. Warm velvet, something rich and sensuous, something a man would long to get close to, to touch, to fondle, to devour.
She glanced up at him and smiled. "Your touch is honey to my soul and body, Hunter. Hold both my breasts, make love to them. Kiss my nipples. I wish my breasts were filled with milk...I need to feed you, to feel you sucking on me."
He shifted slightly and enfolded both breasts, softly thumbing her nipples into hard posts. She rolled her eyes upward with pleasure, then closed them. "Oh, Lord, that is so indescribably sweet and arousing."
"Reagan, would you turn around on the couch to lie at length with your head in my lap. I really need to kiss you."
She smiled and moved around, untying her blouse as she did so, then pulled his head down to her lips. She was every bit the expert with her kiss that she was posing in those lovely pictures. Her scent filled his nostrils as she slipped her wet tongue through his lips and flicked it about inside his mouth. She radiated a sexual heat that had nothing to do with her flu; it was a deep animal-like desire that warned of only a partial restraint.
She used her tongue as a weapon, stabbing his, flashing it about along his teeth and gums, describing a longing for his demands on her. He returned her delicious savagery, touching her eyelids, her nose and then her ears with the moist tip of his own, whispering small breaths of need, surprising her that a man could be so attuned to a woman's desire for tenderness.
"I should be slow and dignified, Hunter. I am older than you and I am acting as if I were eighteen again."
She squirmed and wriggled her hips slightly, admitting, "I am hot. Oh, heavens, I am so very hot! I just wet myself...do you know that? I...I...oh! God! This can't be happening. Ooohh, this is so beautiful. I am such a gorgeous mess, and you did it to me, you precious man."
Her smile was brilliant in its intensity. Her hands waved lightly in in the air, caressing his face, securing his hands on her breasts, moving them about her tummy.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Yes, what, you stunning woman?"
"Yes, I need for you to remove my pants. I need you, need you, NEED YOU!"
This last was a cry of longing, an announcement of her intent to give herself, then as he reached for her belt, she began to twist vigorously, kicking off her red pumps and pushing down her black slacks. She wore a lacy thong through which he could see her dense black bush; thong and bush were wet with sticky moisture.
"Can I assist, Reagan?" he said, trying to get the legs of her pants off and making an effort to fold them rather than toss them aside. The thong was wet with her cream. Nonetheless, he enjoyed the feel of its stickiness as he removed it.
"Reagan, please sit up, spread your legs, and let me love you."
"Yes, yes, you must," she replied breathlessly. Move the table back, please...come to me."
On his knees Hunter stroked the insides of her lovely thighs, marveling at the soft glow of her flesh. Completely smooth, soft, delicate yet strong. Hot with the presence of influenza, And then there was that gorgeous, thick black forest of her carefully cultivated bush, standing out in haughty contrast to her white skin, so dense in fact that it concealed completely her lips beneath it.
He moved toward her, and when she saw this she gasped with anticipation. He nosed into her forest of dark soft fur. It curled about his face, caressing his nose, filling his mouth, warming his face with its heaviness. With his hands, he grasped it on each side of his face and gently pulled apart her flesh, exposing her wet vagina. It was beautiful.
Her outer lips were lovely; her inner leaves of flesh were red and sticky with a heavy white residue. She felt his breath on them and moaned, "Hunter, take me, oh, please devour me, suck me, enter me. Oh!"
He moved into her warmth, breathing in her woman scent, receiving its message of intimacy. He pressed his mouth firmly into her pussy and sucked vigorously, flicking her protruding clitoris with his tongue. That brought a deep groan from his woman and she grasped his head, drawing him deeper into her treasure. He pushed his tongue as far into her pussy as he could extend, triggering a heavy emission of her cum. He sucked her flesh and swallowed her liquid. She was as delicious as warm syrup.
"Mmmmm...oh, nooo...I cannot be doing this. No one ever took me this way." She gritted her teeth, and for a second he wondered if she were angry. But her face broke into a smile as she closed her eyes. A heavy flow of cream bathed his face, so much of it that he could actually lap it up.
Gentle liquid sounds emerged from between her thighs, and Reagan waved her arms almost absentmindedly in a slow, serpent-like motion as she surrendered to his pleasure. This was tender, worshipful, sensuous, a man's physical actions that lavished her body with warmth like the feeling she got when she exposed herself in public. Oh! That had always been so erotic and fiery and thrilling.
And now this.
She looked down over her breasts to watch him. His face was shiny with her cum, and he slowly moved from side to side within her flesh, wetting his mouth, nose and cheeks with her slippery sweetness.
'He is able to take from me whatever he wants,' she thought. 'I would never, ever have given this to a man. What is going on with me! He...he...I...this simply is not happening to me, it is so beautiful.'
"Oh, help me...I want you inside of me, I want you to scrape the inside of my body," she whispered to the air. "Your love is so perfect, you must have a gorgeous shaft to scour the insides of me. Mmmmm," and she lapsed into soft panting like some great cat after its run.
Hunter had been making oral love to her, but he felt as if he had raced a mile full-tilt. "Reagan, honey, let me change positions. You are delicious, and I need you in a different way. Will you let me?"
She stared at and through him with those blue eyes, wrinkling her brow, then breaking into a smile as she nodded. She was nearly bare, yet he felt as if he were in the official presence of royalty.
5
Slow Conquest
He sat back on his heels and wiped his face with the corner of the sheet. "Please excuse my crudeness," he asked as she watched him through half-lidded eyes.
"Hunter, let me undress you."
He nodded, thinking she would quickly remove his shirt, denims and underwear and they would slip into their next intimacies. Nothing of the sort happened. She first stood and kissed him insistently, moving his hand to the wetness between her thighs, then tasting each of his fingers as he watched.
This done, she slowly removed his shirt, admiring his strong body, whispering compliments about his beauty, and kissing each of his nipples. Her hands flew over his muscular frame in a running caress, ending with the unfastening of his belt. By now he was hot enough to carry out a spontaneous human combustion.
She stooped to pull down his pants, picking up each foot to remove them. She was secretly pleased to see that his body hair was very thin and vanished entirely on his upper thighs. 'What does he look like there?' she wondered, answering her own thoughts as she drew down his shorts.
His was an exquisitely shaped beauty, thick, long enough to touch her backbone in her opinion, and with a lovely ball sac that she tenderly held as she admired him. He was completely bare of pubic hair, his flesh lightly tanned, and he was as firm as the handle of a shovel. He obviously sunbathed nude, and that sent a zing of sexual electricity through her body.
Did he do it in public? she wondered. Did he enjoy exposing himself? She hoped the answer to both questions was 'yes'. His scent was clean and inviting as she kissed his abdomen, delaying what she and he wanted most. He smelled remotely of something piney, like those great trees swaying in the storm outside.
Hunter sighed as he gave himself over to her intimate work. Her hands danced over his penis, lightly touching its bare head, stroking his length, holding out his balls as she took them into her mouth. Warm, delicious, full.
"Your bare stem is a gorgeous creation," she remarked softly as she looked up at him. Then she enclosed it with her mouth and began one of the most sensuous acts of his life. He had often enjoyed caressing himself to orgasms, and when he was lying down he always held himself erect to allow his cum to flow down his shaft as he stroked it. But nothing had been like the affectionate way in which she enclosed him with her mouth and proceeded to devour him.
How this woman had become such an expert in oral sex, he had no idea. But she was a museum piece for her technique and skill. She bathed him with her mouth juices, lightly sucked him, then slowly withdrew his fullness to caress it. She never moved rapidly in and out, never was hasty. She built up a within him a heat that began with the faintest of flames, then she carefully fanned it into a roaring furnace.
She could read his nearness to an orgasm because just as he approached the brow of that delicious cliff, she backed off to tender kisses and sucking his crown as she cradled his balls. Finally, in sweet desperation he whispered, "Reagan, please make it happen."
She did so.
It came as a rush of heavy fluids through what felt like a hundred miles of hypersensitive piping inside his body. As she caressed and stroked and drew upon his cock, it burned its way through his hips and stem and emerged as bursts of sticky, cream-colored ropes.
Reagan acted as though she hadn't eaten for days. Though delicate and refined in her skills, she never had the slightest intention of avoiding his eruption. She consumed it with intensity, wetly swallowing it, at times allowing some to escape her mouth and course down to hang from her chin, swaying erotically with her motions, until she had exhausted him.
She stood, her lovely face, as his had been, covered with cream, two long ropes hanging from her chin. As she stared directly at him, she removed the cream from her face and touched his nipples, than deposited it on his already-wet shaft.
"Now I am ready for you to capture me, Hunter," she spoke softly as if breaking the silence would shatter an enchantment.
She lay back upon the couch, a picture of smooth, curvy, waiting feminine loveliness, her face still wet with his cum. He sank to a position above her as she held his shaft and guided it into her. Without allowing him to enter slowly, she pulled him down savagely, shoving his cock to her base and crying out with joy.
"Oh, God, I have you! Oh, I have you...so beautiful, such perfection. Mmmm...cannot stand this...can't hold myself! YES! Yes...take me, Hunter. Do me. Destroy me with yourself."
Slowly he began his movement into and out of her slippery pussy, unable to describe in words how erotic and delicious it felt. Her eyes widened as he pressed to his length, feeling the end of her and bringing sighs and quick intakes of her breath. She moaned, sighed, made soft little cries to Brenda apologizing that this was a greater ecstasy than the one they enjoyed, glared at the man over her, demanding that he continue forever and swell to twice his size.
As he tenderly stroked her, Hunter chuckled, kissed her lips, and said, "Honey, I cannot grow to twice my size...wish I could...but it ain't in the cards. But I can keep this up just about forever. In private, in public view, and with however many others are involved. Are you sure you can bear me that long?"
She stretched out her body in a feline fashion, smiling, clamping shut her thighs upon his shaft, and laughing brightly at his remark. "Hunter, you now own me. No man has ever given to me what you have, and I have never surrendered myself to another like this. I am so wet...slippery...gooey...and it is perfection to be naked before you."
"If I get the temperature right in here, would you consider staying that way all day?" he asked with an obviously hopeful note in his voice.
"I love being naked, dear one. Will it make you more likely to seize me again and ravish me, assault me, storm me and make me a holy mess?"
"It may have a great deal to do with it," he laughed. "But how often can we do this before our parts start to wear out?"
"While you are inside me with all that luscious cum and those millions of precious bits of you racing around in my intimate places and my legs are clamped on you, I want you to stroke me," she commanded. "And I can do this forever."
He did so effortlessly. On one hand there was little friction at all; on the other, they could sense every single movement, every touch, every contraction that each of them made.
"You can have me as often as you want to, lover. I have never responded to another person like this. And I have used erotic inserts with a gallon of gel, I may get red with your delicious invasions, but I will only become more sensitive and I will only need you more."
He rested upon her body, carefully putting his weight upon her until they were one. Her hair caressed his face and she whispered into his ear.
"You are mine now, Hunter. I am yours. This is not a one-time affair. We belong to each other."
"Yes, Reagan, we do. For today, for tomorrow, and somehow for a long, long time."
"We will work it out, my dear and perfect lover. Please stay inside of me. You are a-b-s-o-l-u-t-e-l-y huge. You stretch me...ooo, my!...as if I have this enormous log inside of me, and I can't decide whether I want you to push yourself to the back of my throat or to touch my spine with this incredibly wonderful gift of yours."
Silence as he continued to stroke her, then she asked, "This has been such a delightful and slow conquest by you. How did you do it, Hunter?" She laughed gently, expecting no answer.
He had managed to do for her something that had caressed her soul even in the midst of her sickness, and she was definitely a very sick lady; still, she continued to stare at him with an intensity and hunger that truly rattled him.
Her eyes told him that she knew he was on the way. If it were possible, they seemed to widen even more, spearing him with their intensity, and she wriggled her hips in preparation. She began a slow and animal-like smile of anticipation and announced with certainty, "You are coming, Hunter, I can sense you."
As he softly and steadily pressed into her and then withdrew, he asked, "How can you tell, how do you know?"
"A woman in love knows these things, Hunter. I feel you swelling even more in me. Your head is so large that its rim caresses my flesh, it tells me delicious and erotic things you will do to me. Think of all those pictures, of every part of me I ever showed. Know that you are enslaving more of me now than anyone did who ever saw me. I am so happy that you are bare inside of me. Smooooth...tender...sooo hot...AH!"
With that cry she began to heave beneath him, and he realized that without timing or effort he was going to lose himself along with her. It burned its way through him like a welding torch. His cream felt as if it were expanding like steam within his shaft and when he spurted, he cried with relief as well as ecstasy at the sensation of release.
Reagan's mouth formed a large red O as her own orgasm gripped her without mercy, tearing away any shreds of hesitation, any reluctance to trust a man again. With a hoarse cry of feminine longing she gripped him and bucked against his thrusts like a wild horse, determined to throw him off yet just as determined that she would imprison him forever.
Their moans and whisperings crowded out the sighing and whines of the storm outside. Their bodies moved and swirled over and under each other in some dance of passion even as they were connected by Hunter's greatly enlarged penis. Sweat and creamy emissions lubricated their bodies and in a moment when the storm subsided, they could hear the sticky, sucking sounds of furious intercourse.
He continued thrusting and almost on the heels of her first climax, her eyes widened again and she said hoarsely, "You...you are making me do it again! Nothing...I...oh, God!...oh, heavens, that was an electric shock! That zipped right through my tummy and legs. How do you do this to me? Ohhh...ooo."
With a childish delight that made him laugh, she announced, "Okay, here I go, again!"
And her furious writhing and twisting almost threw them off the couch.
She wrapped her fabulous legs around him as they thrust and pumped, and somehow in spite of her grip he managed to continue pushing into and withdrawing from her body. By now they could feel their bodies sliding around on the couch in the glorious, gooey mess beneath them.
Eventually, the laws of physics and chemistry overcame them, and the two lovers ceased in utter exhaustion.
"Do you realize," he remarked softly to Reagan as he raised his torso over her while remaining completely inside her, "that you are a sick woman? That you are hot, hot, hot, and while I am captivated by your passion, I know that part of that heat is still flu?"
"All right," she said with a tired but deeply satisfied smile, "you win. I'll let you go, Hunter, but only if you promise that no matter how sick I am today, you will do this to me again before nightfall."
"What man has ever been forced to make such a sensuous promise? Yes, lovely Reagan. I will make love with you again today. Now you are so full of me and our cream that we are leaking like a broken hydraulic system."
"I know it! Isn't it wonderful! Oh, it feels so good on my skin."
"It is sexy, isn't it?"
"Yes, Hunter, lover. Now, with all we've done, it's time for you to call me things more intimate than just 'Reagan.' Anything you wish to name me, a nickname, something erotic and suggestive that you can use around others, it will be precious to me. I fear that you have captured me, Hunter, and I just gave myself to you. I should be terribly afraid, but I'm not."
"All right, sweet lady, you overcame me as well. I'm in love with you, so if I've captured you, then you own me as well. There is no reason you should be afraid, Reagan."
He was quiet for a moment, then he asked, "What if I call you Madison? I can't explain how deeply you affected me and the way I constantly thought of your name, 'Madison.'"
She gazed at him with an understanding smile, then whispered, "I would consider it an intimate and sensuous thing for you to call me that, for always if you wish."
6
Plans
When Reagan stood, she swayed unsteadily, bearing out Hunter's caution that she remained ill and needed to shower, then let him get her back into bed. She agreed to the showering, then put on a bathing cap to keep dry her lovely black mane.
"You must wash me, lover. I need help." He stepped into the stall with her, adjusted the water temperature, and slowly soaped her entire body, running his hand through her anal cleft, fondling her breasts, and clenching and tugging the lush mass of her fur. The soap with its rich lather made touching her flesh an exotic experience.
She grasped the hand-holds in the shower as he made love to her with his hands. Sweet tenderness. Delicious touches. A man knowing her and giving her the delights of slow adoration of her body. Her heat building once more and the sensation of another zippy little orgasm that left her wet...again.
'You just play me like a bluegrass banjo,' she thought. 'Lord, can you keep these seizures of mine going indefinitely? I think I've had fifteen with no sign of stopping!'
She clutched at him and as he held her to kiss her she took his hard penis to insert it into her body. He slid easily into her, the water coursing down over their bodies as he kissed her, she whispering desperate little snatches of passion as she pressed her thighs together, he finding no resistance to his slow thrusting despite the grip of her thighs.
She came first, this time shouting her joy, peppering her ecstasy with little mutterings about his size, about this being a joyful rape of her entire womanhood, and then the delicious convulsions rippled through her once more. He held her in his arms as she wriggled and moaned and then fastened her mouth leech-like over his, pouring her juices into him, sucking his tongue so powerfully that he felt as if she might pull it out.
As if in reward for an accomplishment well done, he spurted into her. It drained him so beautifully that he cried out. Dreams and imagination were never this captivating. He couldn't get close enough to her, couldn't hold her tightly enough. At one point he had to suddenly let her go because she couldn't breathe in his embrace.
Reagan backed off his penis, then turned off the shower and knelt before him to devour his shaft. Still no fast movements as the film clips and movies depict. She drew on him with a passion that he felt to his spine. She fondled his swollen stem as if it were a holy gift, whispering compliments about its scent, its size, the pleasure of enfolding it with her mouth and tasting his cum.
He could not possibly repeat an orgasm, but she apparently could still taste his cream for she closed her eyes and rolled something around in her mouth before swallowing it.
Finally, she stood and with a coy smile said, "Now, mister captivator, I'm clean, I'm still sick, but you have done wonders to help me recover. I should write a book on the best way to recover from illness with the man of your life. This, Hunter, is how you do it."
With a giggle she escorted him from the shower, and they dried off each other, the pleasurable task taking three times as long because he kept sliding his fingers through the slipperiness between her thighs and she insisted on fingering his anus and toying with his penis.
"Tell me, what pictures of me were or are your favorites?"
"Easy...you know the one of you completely nude in a very well-populated hotel ballroom, wearing a black flat-top card-player Stetson, black embroidered stay-up stockings and black stiletto heels? That is incredibly sensuous. You certainly had everybody's attention. And the ones of you completely nude, lying on your bed or the floor, close-ups of your face, your breasts, your pussy and your entire body? Those are my favorites, and I still have them."
"I remember them very well. Thank you, Hunter. You may not believe this, but when we were shooting that one in the ballroom at the rather sensuous wedding of an acquaintance, I thought, 'I dedicate these to the man I've never met, the love of my life. Now I know it was you."
"Reagan, princess...," he trailed off, realizing how significant were her words. "Thank you. You are more beautiful now than in those photographs."
"All right," he announced, breaking the silence with a hungry expression. "Time to get you into something for the day on the couch. That's where you are going, so no arguing. How about this sexy white flannel pullover?"
"Okay, hang it on me and see if you approve."
She drew it over her head, and only then did he realize that it was wonderfully skimpy, it exposed most of her breasts because of the low neckline and slender straps, and it just barely concealed her hips, leaving bare the black delta of her flourishing and beautifully sculpted fur.
"Ah! Hunter, you certainly know how to help a lady get dressed for illness recovery."
"Boy, I do, don't I," he agreed as he took her arm and escorted her to the couch where she stood while he cleaned off the evidence of their furious lovemaking of that morning, laid down another sheet, tucked it in and helped her lie on it. She was a picture of lovely sensuality.
She stared at him, blue eyes sparkling, her mouth forming sexy little words for him, breasts already forcing their way out of the soft top, and her thick fur an inviting pool of darkness.
"Oh, yes, I'm very sick. Right now I don't need a cover, but you go ahead and do what you need to. I'll watch and doze and want you all over again."
He bent over to kiss her, then whispered, "Yes, you do need a cover, because it is cold outside. Gets that way in the mountains. Now rest. Think about me inside of you. Bare. Losing everything. Go to sleep."
He didn't need to add the latter; she had already fallen into a restful, satisfied slumber.
Plans, he needed to consider them. Outside there was silence. The weather front had passed, leaving in its wake a chilly silence and sounds of the forest dripping water, a living thing. He loved the wilderness and its quietening effect and hoped the woman on the couch would as well.
Hunter thought about what Reagan would be doing in the future. She was well-educated and had a good job in Chattanooga. He would like to encourage her to resurrect her appearances on an erotic website; she enjoyed it, he definitely enjoyed her...and a number of other erotic features as well; and it was a delicious stimulus to what he hoped was their ongoing time together. His own company, Appalachian Investments, was headquartered in Birmingham, but he could accomplish his investment directing from his computer wherever he was.
Did Reagan have a big home? Was she wedded to displays of money, stuff? What about her lesbian lover at the university? That was definitely not a problem for him. Reagan needed that friendship and love and he was not at all threatened by it; he hoped to meet Brenda soon, as she had promised.
He was going to make this his home, now that he'd been here and had fallen in love with the whole place, wilderness, small village and all. He would have to talk with her when she awoke. In the meantime, he went to his laptop and began laying out a means of staying here.
The hours passed quietly. In the woods a woodpecker began its hammering in a dry, dead oak out back, and he detected the forty-something whistles and calls of a mockingbird he had named Big Al. The sun was attempting to break through the clouds but the cold remained. He glanced at the couch and discovered that Reagan was again silently watching him.
Even with the flush of illness, she was stunning. That thick black hair that called attention to her incredibly smooth, creamy skin that begged to be licked; her red mouth, matching fingernails and mascara-outlined eyes from which those piercing blue eyes gazed at him; the flesh beneath her arms and inside her thighs that was exactly the same color and smoothness as her entire body; her deep thicket of jet black fur, so carefully tended to a perfect delta, that completely hid her pussy; her catlike way of moving her arms and legs that invited his possession of her.
But most enchanting and inviting of all was her expression of sweet pleasure, fulfillment and longing for him.
"Hunter, please come here and sit by me. I need you in order to become well. I need the feel of you. I must touch you, caress your intimate delights to reassure myself of your reality. I am so deeply and sensuously affected by you...I can't rest any longer unless you take me once more. You do not really understand what you have done to me, and how completely I have surrendered to you. Come to me, lover, and talk, whisper, caress me, lick me, kiss my tender places...oh, God...please just destroy me again the way you did this morning!"
Hunter had never seen a woman literally squirm with passion, her body flexing with desire, her eyes, the windows to her soul, so burning with heat and longing to have every conceivable tender sexual thing done to her.
He sat and placed her head on his lap, her body stretched the length of the couch. As he lightly ran his fingers over her throat, then down her shoulders to fondle her breasts and those lovely pink nipples, finally ending at her navel, he whispered to her.
"Reagan, in a very subtle way you paralyze me as I look at you. The fact that you are older than I am and still desire me does something beautiful in my heart that I never knew. You are a perfection of creation...your face, your hair and eyes, your delicate and completely impossibly delicious body...your smooth, delectable skin that deserves something far more worshipful than mere touching...the way your breasts remain firm and high when you lie down...the perfection of your black, shiny hair between your thighs, such a regal contrast to your skin...your legs and feet...you are more to be worshiped than any woman I've ever seen. My beloved goddess."
As he lapsed into silence, tears formed in her eyes and lightly skated down the sides of her face into the delicate shells of her ears.
"Poetry, words from a man's creative heart, sounds of honey being spread throughout my soul, your touches that are so soft yet strike matches all throughout my body, setting me on fire. I am alive for you, Hunter. My breathing is rapid. My heart beats too fast. I wish I were pregnant so that I could nurse you with my milk, so I could feel your lips tugging at my nipples, so that I could get myself hot and make them spurt milk onto you. I have become so hot that I have been running cream since you first touched me. Look," and she very lightly swept her fingers through her vagina, "look at how sticky and wet I am. I am so on fire for you that I wish I could devour my own pussy, taste my syrup, feel my fur on my face."
"I am one with you, Reagan. And I need you again."
"Will you p...l...e...e...a...s...e capture me? Don't wait, Hunter. Oh!...I am so...so...help me, my man!" Her sexy voice rose to a cry of need.
H repositioned himself in order to kiss her as he caressed her breasts and softly squeezed them. Her kisses were furious in their intensity. She poured her juices into his mouth, panting her need, and he actually heard the small, sticky sound of cream escaping between her legs. He put his left hand between her thighs, clasping a handful of her thick grass, then pressing four fingers into her slippery heat.
"That...is...so, ooo...my! So sexy, so intimate. Please push your hand into me. I can receive you. Do it, now." She spread her legs to make room for him.
He thought he would be unable to fit his entire hand into her vagina; he was wrong. She was so dilated, so wet, that he slid into her body to his wrist, encountering delicate hot walls of flesh that seemed to contract upon his hand. Her eyes enlarged with excitement. He had no idea a woman could take such an invasion.
"Yes, yes! Oh, that is heaven itself, Hunter. My whole body is alight. I can feel your caresses in my breasts, rippling through my legs, stroking the edges of my soul. You have enlarged me...I am so big...it is wonnnderfulll," she sighed, then urged him, "work your fingers around. Curl them inside of me, you won't hurt me, dear one. Oh, I was made for this!"
He slowly curved his fingers into a light fist, then opened them once more, stroking the insides of her body, marveling at her heat and tender flesh and the slippery bath of her cream.
"I have never done this before. So slowly, so gently, and as you look at me you melt into me, Reagan. I don't know where I leave off and you begin."
So much for planning.
Chapter 7
Sweet Imaginings
"Hunter, darling, since you are buried so intimately inside of me, something that only Brenda has done, and she never took me so gloriously apart like you are doing, would you tell me what are some of your fantasies?" She smiled with a lusty expression in her eyes.
He thought for a few seconds. He had many, and more than a few involved the woman now under his spell. He'd just never considered how he would describe them without sounding cheap and silly.
"I have so many that involve you, lovely lady. During a pool party at your home, I dive into the water, not knowing you are in the pool naked. And I come up beside you. You kiss me, and ask me to enter you right there in front of everyone else. What is one of yours?"
"I do so enjoy exposing myself in public. I wear a thin white peasant-type top with puffy sleeves that is off-my-shoulders. It is so low that my breasts are exposed, and I leave them that way. I am wearing a black denim micro-skirt that shows my bottom and part of my bush. I feel the breeze on my fur and people stare at me as I walk along. My nakedness makes me so hot! I think how arousing is the sight of my long fur just below the hem of my little skirt, the feel of having part of my bottom bare and walking around a lot of places like that."
"I often thought about what it would be like to watch you and another woman make love."
"Well, sweet lover, you can get your fill of that when you and I have a date with Brenda. When I texted her after I went into the bedroom, she said that she would like to meet us this weekend if I'm better...and she threatened me with no loving closely followed by death itself if I didn't bring you. Hunter, if the two of us wanted to make love with you, would you like that?"
For all Reagan's queenly bearing and aura, she sounded as hopeful as a small girl the night before Christmas.
"Angel, I am not sure I could survive two of you. Reagan, as I said, you are intimidating in a very delicious sense. When we love I feel as if I can never be enough for you. But, yes! I certainly would enjoy being with you and Brenda."
"Dear, sweet, precious Hunter, I am only me. I am so deeply flawed and afraid. You have, in this short time, given me life again and made me realize that someone can love me deeply. No one has ever, ever spoken the words to me that you have. I would never have believed that mere words, sounds, could arouse me to a white hot heat and make me ready to explode with desire. This very second I want you so badly that if you don't turn me over and fill my body from behind with that gorgeous, huge spike of yours, then I am going to scream!"
"Are you serious?" he replied in genuine surprise.
"As a stroke, my darling lover. Must I order you to tear me apart with your tender invasion and that huge shaft? If you could only know how you search my insides, how you tickle the walls of my erotic desires, how you touch the bottom of my throat when you possess my pussy, how you caress and lovingly coat the back of my throat with cum when I swallow you. Love with you is holy ground, Hunter. Now, will you overcome me again this way?"
For some reason, he noted as he stood and picked her up as if she were weightless, she seemed cooler as he headed for the bedroom and the comfort and space of the double bed. As he placed her on the bed, his hand brushed through her pussy, covering it with her wetness. He wondered if she had urinated lightly, she was so extremely damp.
It didn't matter. He would have made love with her and enjoyed the heat if she were coated with tabasco sauce, he wanted her so much. If she had wet during her arousal, so much the better as a testimony to her excitement. She turned over and lay there, a gorgeous milky white shape against his gray linen sheets.
He crouched above her and slowly ran his hand through her vagina, gathering her cream with which he then coated her hole and her anal cleft. He was enormously swollen as he nosed his shaft into her body. She signed with pleasure and, to his surprise, whispered, "Darling, I can take you here, too. Long ago I was made for you. Now, Hunter, take possession of me."
She raised her hips, exposing her enlarging hole to the firm head of his penis. His balls softly caressed her buns, comfortable and safe. She began to moan as he slid his shaft into the darkness and warmth of her body.
"Now you are at home, my lover. Push on in all the way. To my base, as much as you have for me. There! You have stuffed me and now I want you to move in and out. When you come, Hunter, give me everything you have, and then you have to stay inside of me as long as you are hard."
He complied with the wishes of this gorgeous woman. She continued to keep her bottom raised until he began to throb with his coming orgasm. Then she lay flat, increasing the pressure of her body on his cock.
"Think of how you are owning me, my angel. I can't move, for you are impaling me with that luscious, enormous thing. I can feel every movement, even when your muscle contracts. You are going to lose everything inside of me, and it will be beautiful. Oh, what a sweet mess it will be! All that sticky, gooey, cream covering me. Here you go, my love!"
And she was correct. He put his head back and shouted with release as waves of fire and wrenching contractions swept through his body. He had no idea how many times he sent jets of cum into her, only that she whimpered in sweet surrender and he was utterly drained.
As she drowsed with contentment, he whispered more fantasies in her ear.
"We attend a conference for my company. You are the center of attention, and I am so happy for you and us, for we belong to each other, yet it is such a compliment to you. You are wearing a tight, light blue, soft jersey dress that reaches to your mid-thighs...with no underwear. Your breasts are outlined perfectly, and your bush is so thick that it makes your dress stand out...everyone knows exactly what it is, and they are all talking, pointing and whispering."
"Hunter, I will get that dress and wear it for you as soon as you want me to. I will never be embarrassed to make a fantasy of yours come true, no matter what it is or how risqué. And if it gets me into trouble, then I'll just get hotter for you."
"We are walking a beach, Reagan, someplace where there are many others. I find a seat and sit down. You sit on my lap, and because you have on a very short skirt, I raise it and slide into you right there in front of everyone else. You close your eyes, and then begin to moan as your climax arrives. You toss that beautiful head back and cry out with joy as I move under you to get as deep as I can. Afterward we stand up, you are holding on to me because your legs are unsteady, and we walk slowly off. The cream is running down the insides of your legs."
"I have longed for sex in public, Hunter. I will do it with you in the middle of the freeway at rush hour!" She laughed happily, then whispered, "Lose yourself in me again, precious man."
He had no idea that he was so close to a second loss until she spoke those words, and he sensed the thickness of his shaft and the burning in his hips and abdomen. As he again spurted ropes of cream into her body, she squirmed and cried out, "Oh, yes! Yes, my love. YES!" Then she was gripped by contractions that undulated as if the ground were disturbed by some creature out of sight but moving through it. Reagan cried and beat her hands on the bed as her body wrenched her and threatened to turn itself inside-out.
"I should call you Orion in our intimate moments, like the constellation" she whispered dreamily.
"Orion, why, honey?"
"Because you are my beloved Hunter. You have found me in a most peculiar way through a hunt that you did not begin, yet you have successfully captured me...and my angel, I am your most willing prey."
Loving can be exhausting in a sweet way, and they experienced it during the next hour. Both drifted off to sleep at different times, but she was at peace, and he knew that he would protect her in life and in his heart.
Three hours later both awakened, parted, and he escorted her to the shower to bathe her. The foul weather had broken for sunshine and a chilly day. He dressed in jeans, a long sleeve shirt and a denim jacket with his boots. She wore a long sleeve, tight white sweater over a delicate half-bra that bared most of her breasts, her black denims, half-heel shoes, and a light jacket that she left open. They walked outside and stood quietly for several moments, drinking in the fresh forest smells and the silence.
Reagan put her arm through his, kissed him on his cheek, and whispered, "I love this place, this house. Will you let me make this my home, Hunter? May I come to live with you?"
"That is what I've wanted since I first saw you step out of the car. For years I collected you and fantasized about you. Now that you are real, I know that I need you. Yes, this is your home."
"Hunter, I am ten to fifteen years older than you. What if, in the future you tire of me? What if you no longer want a woman who is obviously getting older than you? What will happen to us?"
"My sweet Madison," he smiled at her as he used her erotic name, "you seem to think that loving you is based on your appearance. Not so, precious woman! Yes, you are gorgeous, and yes, you are so sexy that you give orgasms to every living thing within a one-block area wherever you go..."
"Good heavens, Hunter, do I really have that effect on living creatures, all of them, great and small?"
"I was going to say that despite the physical effect you have on people and me, I am in love with the woman living inside that stunning body. I want to grow old with you, angel. I truly hope that you continue your erotic activities, your exposure, and your love with Brenda. These things heighten our sexual temperature. But you getting older? Reagan, in what we have done these past two days, we've become one; I might even have made you pregnant. In spite of the casual way a lot of men go at their female relationships, with me you are different. I want you, Reagan, here, now, and for the years ahead."
She leaned her head against his arm and said nothing for nearly a quarter of an hour. He saw tears in her eyes, but she did not cry. Then she moved in front of him, put her hands on his cheeks and said, "How could I possibly not want what you described? I look at you...I listen to you...I listen to all of this...I think of the way you express what is dearest to your soul...this is where I belong, and you are the love I belong to. The first time you caressed me and whispered to me, I gave myself to you, Hunter.
"I will do everything I possibly can to be as sensuous and pleasing for you as possible. But it will be the hard times, the quiet times when you touch me and say nothing, the nights when we are close and we are bathed in the sounds of this place, the periods of danger when we can rely only on each other...those are the seasons of my heart that will ensure our love. They will come, like last night, and they will forever enchant me. The sex is only a delicious icing on our cake. And, ooooo, is it going to fun making that for you!"
She looked up at him with those same blue eyes with the long black lashes that stabbed his heart years ago. This time, however, it was an expression of devotion, complete mental, spiritual and physical surrender, and a sexual fire that would scorch him almost beyond his ability to control her. In fact, he would not be able to control his woman. And deep in his heart he knew he didn't need to or want to, for she was his along with her passion.
'Princess, how do you feel? Let me touch you."
"Oh, will you please!" she laughed as she drew aside her jacket to reveal her breasts perfectly revealed by the skin-like sweater, mostly-bare mounds lifted in the wispy half-bra beneath the thin, soft cotton.
"Madison, come here before I jump you on this porch." He enfolded her in his arms and felt her body heat. She was still too warm to go into Chattanooga as he was going to suggest, but she could accompany him down the mountain to the Grassroots Inn. She would be perfectly at home in the eclectic atmosphere where motorcyclists, truckers, families and singles all became a happy, noisy and sometimes very risqué crowd.
"Let's go down to the Grassroots Inn. Good food, fun, and with the way you and I enjoy public exposure, you may just have an opportunity to show off those gorgeous tits. You will need to take some low-heel shoes. And when we go in, you've got to take off that jacket."
"No jacket, huh? And what about my white sweater is going to be sexy enough for others to see?"
"Well, for starters, Princess, it fits you like your original skin. Close behind, you are a really big girl. As in, large, full, bouncy and just what a man or woman wants to get their hands on. Bringing up the rear are those pointed nipples in that half-brassiere...they stick out like rocks. I'm going to have to fight off all comers to keep you safe."
She placed his hands on her breasts and said, "Hunter, I am yours. I can't be un-safe when I'm with you. No man or woman can take me away from you. Not even sweet Brenda."
Chapter 8
Dinner At the Grassroots Inn
They locked up the cabin, loaded into His Toyota Tundra, and set out for the Grassroots Inn down the mountain. When they arrived he noticed Doc Campbell in the lot along with several others he had seen in the general store when he got ready for the storm. They waved, and Doc's eyes lit up when he spotted Reagan in the cab with Hunter.
When they arrived at the front door, true to her word, Reagan removed her jacket and immediately got the attention of everyone around the doorway. As they entered, eyes were fixed on him as the new guy around, and on her as the beauty in the thin white sweater with the stunning chest.
She moved with a grace that characterized her maturity, yet Hunter was aroused at the way she casually brushed several men and women with her breasts. There was no doubt that each person noticed her action and stared at her. Two women smiled and spoke to her but he could not hear their words. From their expressions, though, he could tell that they had enjoyed the experience.
"Madison, where would you like to sit? In a booth or at a table?"
"Let's sit at a table. That way I can lean back in my chair and let you grope my boobs in front of everybody," she smiled, flashing those white teeth that had so professionally nibbled his intimate parts only a few hours ago. "And, Hunter, you had better grope my breasts. I did not wear this skimpy sweater and half-bra for nothing!"
Their waitress, a Hooters-girl-in-waiting wearing the tightest blue denims Hunter had ever seen, led them to a table near the open area where at some point those who wanted to could dance. They agreed on a pair of enormous steak burgers, medium well, with enough 'garbage' on them to stock half a salad bar, a couple of beers, and fries.
The food was excellent, Reagan was excellent, and Hunter was getting aroused. Most of the men around them did what they could to casually but unobtrusively inspect his date. Not so with the women nearby. He had not seen such lascivious stares and suggestive whispers in a restaurant. It made him wonder how long it would be before one of the women propositioned her. That might have been a little soon in his book, but Hunter would not have minded had she received such female attention.
After they had finished, the Inn offered a comic routine that was actually funny without being filthy, something that in his opinion took real skill. For half an hour the crowd enjoyed a routine by two men and a woman, all of whose routine reminded him of Jeff Foxworthy, Bill Engvall and Larry the Cable Guy.
A bluegrass band struck up several numbers that were hugely popular, then the line dancing began. "Honey, I am the world's worst at this. If you want to join them, you can, I don't mind."
"Hunter," and she bent over close enough to him to press her breast firmly against his hand on the table, "I am happy enough to sit here with you." Out of the corner of his eye he saw the breasts of their Hooters-in-waiting waitress, closely followed by the waitress herself, who hauled Reagan onto the floor. Some in the line separated at one end and began clogging instead. At this point Reagan came into her own.
She and their waitress began a routine the likes of which he had only seen once on television when a news clip featuring Riverdance came on. To begin with, he had no idea that this lady, still in the throes of flu, would have felt like doing that or even knew how to clog. But what really aroused him and a sizeable portion of the crowd as well was the intimacy with which the two women, one not yet out of her older teens and the other a mature beauty of un-guessable years, became involved with each other during the dance.
Barely into the furious dancing, the younger girl's tank top surrendered to the delicious motion of her breasts, her neckline fell, and her breasts came out. This brought cheers from the crowd, and Hunter felt himself enlarging. He straightened his left leg under the table. The girl made no move to replace her breasts inside her top; rather, Reagan and she ceased clogging, turned to each other, Reagan grasped her breasts and fondled them, then bent and kissed her nipples.
The rest of those line dancing hadn't noticed what was happening at the far end of the floor, but the crowd did. More cheers. The girl put her arms about Reagan's neck and kissed her, whispering something to her that made his date smile and nod in agreement. The girl placed her own hands on Reagan's chest and gently squeezed everything there, then kissed her.
These two continued their own intimate slow dancing, unashamedly fondling each other before the watching crowd until the music ended. Finally, the girl escorted Reagan back to his table where she kissed her once more. As Hunter was getting over that erotic display, she bent low over the table, laid her full breast on his hand and kissed him.
"Thank you, Hunter, for letting me meet your gorgeous lover. Maybe again?"
She straightened, replaced her breasts inside her tank top, and headed back into the kitchen to pick up another order.
"Reagan," he asked with a mixture of puzzlement and sexual arousal, "what just happened?"
"Angel, I was accosted by another sensuous but younger woman and before I could respond adequately and in a mature manner, I fell victim to her charms and the music...,"
"...and her great jugs," he interjected with a laugh.
"Yes, those, too," she giggled. "They really are big, aren't they? They are as lovely and tasty up close as they looked from here. I have probably ruined my reputation around here, but as long as you'll have me, I don't care what anyone else thinks."
"Well what was that little secret she mentioned to you and you nodded?"
"She said, 'You are such a prize for this whole place. Could I possibly have a date with you?'"
"And, what did my Grassroots Lady of the Evening say to that rather vague invitation from a much younger damsel?"
"In order to not discourage the youth of this great nation and this lovely state, I told her, 'Of course. I'd love to have a date with you'."
"Now that is the response that I want you to give. What did she say to your reply?"
"We set a date for next week, if that is all right with you, Hunter. I believe that from the way she kept eying you I can encourage her to have our first date here and with you as well. Hunter," she said, smiling broadly and in a professorial tone, "you have this effect on women. You captivate them, then you spin this web of delicate intimacy, then you introduce them in the sweetest way to a roaring, flaming cauldron of sexual desire and conquest!"
"Is that bad?" he asked, now fully into his lover's goofing around.
"Oh, my stars, no! You have put more miles on me these past few days than most cattle drives ever did down the Chisholm Trail. And look at how well I'm doing. I'm getting better, I am as wet as a swimming pool and given how hot I am sexually, some of that is probably pee. I feel ten years younger. I'd say that time spent with you is definitely good for the whole woman."
She gazed at him with sparkling eyes and an openly lascivious expression of sexual heat. She moved her hips against him, pressing into his body as she stared at him. Quite a show for everyone watching. Quite a heat-up for Hunter.
"Her name is Rachel Jamieson, she is nineteen, and I am certain that she will be both a lovely date for me and a tender, memorable adventure with us both."
"Lady," he said, "I thought the two of you were erotic and arousing. Now I am as hard as a rock, it's all your fault, and I want to thank you for it."
"I love you, Hunter," she replied as she openly rearranged her half-bra under her sweater in front of those nearby, cupped her breasts to settle them into the lacy thing, then finally brushed her nipples to make them stand out.
She moved her chair around the table beside his, and he put his arm around her. Reagan immediately placed his hand on her breast and began squeezing it as the dancing continued. During the next hour they were lost in a small world of their own, whispering within the din of the restaurant around them, drinking one more beer and a cup of coffee, caressing, and kissing.
"Hunter, let's go home now. I need to be with just you and, and...oh, you have no idea how I get hot when you squeeze my breast that way!" She smiled a delicious smile of years and hungers gone by that said, 'Take me, lay waste to me from my soul to my heart to my body.' As he continued fondling both her breasts she began breathing heavily, closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, groaned and then laughed loudly.
"Well, you did it, my sweet Hunter...Orion, the stalker of my soul. I just came and I am soaking. Oh! I am so perfectly wet and I adore it. Your touch and your hands playing with my breasts just burned a gorgeous orgasm out of me, and it's running everywhere inside my pants. I feel alive! I am so hungry for a man that I can hardly sit still. You are that man...oohhh...I am just sloshing between my thighs, I wish you could lick me, drink me, eat me. I hope it shows through my pants. Oh, Lord!"
Hunter stood and collected the beauty he had just undone, then headed for the door. Reagan parted ways with him at the hallway to the ladies' room, then met him shortly thereafter on the front porch of the packed night spot.
"Verdict?" he laughed as he kissed her.
"Oh, heavens, Hunter, I am a perfectly sexy, gooey, flooding mess down there. I came again after I peed, and it's running down my legs. Now I am absolutely soaked with both. Hold on to me because I am so hot, I can't stand very well. You did this delicious thing to me with just your touches. I'm sorry, I just have to sit down for a minute."
Chapter 9
"Need a Little Help?"
Out in the parking lot something was getting started. Hunter's personal motto throughout his adult years, after he had grown a brain and had been graduated from the university, was to keep a low profile in life while standing for his convictions, and then if necessary consider other alternatives. It didn't take him long to realize that this time he might have to consider other alternatives.
Along the first row of parked vehicles was the handicapped section. In the second slot nearest to the door a middle-age woman and her young teen son were assisting a Downs Syndrome youngster, obviously a family member, in loading his scooter onto the transporter rack that receded into their Toyota mini-van.
Three young men, obviously in their twenties and all of them together having the gathered intellect of a bowl of rice, had left their crew-cab pickup and had gathered around the family trying to load their handicapped son into the van. But true to form with this type of sub-human, there were no offers of help. Instead, the trio had begun grabbing at the mother's chest, one had shoved the teenage son, and the third was picking at the shirt of the handicapped child and yelling, "Hey, retard, talk to us. Show us how happy you are. Kid's a damned retard. There oughta be a law."
"Reagan, stay here. This is going somewhere fast, I'll guarantee it, Princess."
"Hunter, please...be careful!"
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone