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Sex Story

The cold rain poured down in torrents, stampeding across the roof like a herd of wild horses. It overflowed the gutters and poured like a waterfall into the garden on either side of the stairs. The night was frigid, dark, moonless and starless... cloudy. He opened the door and there she was. She'd been looking downward, staring at some spot in space that was just below his knees. When he opened the door, she looked up.

Dark locks of half-curling hair were plastered to her face, her neck, her chest. A zip up sweater was stuck to her shoulders, a white tank top stuck to her breasts, her belly, molding itself to her. A pair of flare-leg blue jeans clung to her legs, and dripped water in an ever expanding puddle around her feet. She stood in silence with her hands by her sides, bleak. It was the first time he'd ever seen her like this... so shattered.

It almost killed him...

The light in her eyes was gone, that wildness that had been her trademark for so long... snuffed out. She stood before him, a shadow of that sparkling gem that she had once been. When her blue eyes rose to his, they were blank. No, not blank. Banked. The fire was still there, only faded... and it sparked when she saw him.

Her body shuddered and her arms lifted, hugging one another tightly against the cold that had so soaked into her very skin... that she doubted she could ever be warm again. There was a moment, an eternally long moment when she waited for him to say something, ask her what she was doing here... here... so far from home. But no... he didn't.

Silence.

She fidgeted, looked away from his eyes nervously and he was stunned. He wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure what to do. What had brought her here? Why? What had happened? His eyes met hers again and she shivered once more. Then, he knew. Though not a word was spoken, he knew. She had come, for him. And that thought baffled him beyond words.



No sound passed between them but the shuddering of her cold breath as it puffed little white clouds into the air. He... did not breathe. She seemed just as confused as he was. It was as if she'd been living in a dream and had just now woken to find that it wasn't a dream...but a reality instead. She looked like maybe, just maybe... she wanted to cry. They stood there like that for long, awkward moments. His mouth opened and formed her name, his lips molding around the word.

"Sometimes I lay there in bed," She started, her teeth chattering around the words. "Warm and wondering how cold you are. Sometimes I turn on my side and run my hand up my arm... closing my eyes, pretending it's you lacing your fingers with mine. You warm behind me. Pressed against me... and I wonder where those thoughts come from..."

She stopped, and he opened his arms. She slipped into them soundlessly...

"You... I don't understand. Why you?" She chattered the words into his chest and stood clutching at his shirt. "It was never like this before... you came to visit... we fucked. I came to visit... we fucked. You came to visit... and left... and this time you took a piece of something with you..."

Her body was cold and wet. She shivered, her entire frame wracked with chilly shudders. He hugged her closer to him, tighter, and she buried her face in his shirt. He closed his eyes, whispering her name on such a silent breath that he doubted she heard it. So right. She was always so right. Her skin, her body, her oh-so-blue eyes and those small, but full lips of hers that somehow bent into the most wicked smile... that he had ever seen. And loved.

He pulled her into the house, hauling her backwards unceremoniously. He wanted her. Wanted her now. In this moment. Now. His hands tore at her shirt, ignoring the zipper and simply pulling the sweater-jacket over her head. She lifted her arms so that he could pull off the tank top. She wore no bra; her nipples were hard as rocks. He stared at them, their dusky tan color that was just a few shades darker than the creamy white of her belly.

He saw her blush. And was startled. She never blushed, never lost that 'Devil made me do it' smile that was her trademark. He reached out and touched her face, her skin was free of water now, but it still held that moist coolness that had so soaked into her skin. She closed her eyes and leaned her face into his hand, bringing her own hand up to touch his fingers, glide down to rest on his wrist. She smiled.

And he lost his breath.

Because as she smiled she opened her eyes and looked up at him with such sadly poignant adoration, that he was taken aback. It was as if she lamented this rise of emotion, lamented the loss of her highly flaunted freedom of heart. And yet, she knew that this was the choice her heart had made. And her head and all its good sense just couldn't compare to the emotion she felt. At this second.

After a second her eyes moved, turning their blue stare upon his shirt. Slowly she lifted her hands and slipped them beneath, bringing the fabric ever higher. He gasped as her cold fingers touched his sides, tickling. Up and up she lifted the shirt until he raised his arms over his head and let her pull it free... and toss it aside.

He reached out then, and touched her breast. His fingers curved around the fullness of it and she overflowed his hand. So soft and round with pale tan nipples that faded into brown where their tips stood at attention. He felt her hard nipple press against his palm and was hard, achingly hard in an instant. Slowly his hand slid away from her breast and around beneath her arm, to her back. He pulled her to him again, holding her hard against him, feeling those nipples as they pressed against his chest. Feeling the soft globes of her breasts as they were flattened, against his skin.

Her hands slid over his sides and across his back, then down beneath the waistband of his jeans where she cupped his backside. Her breath was warm, hot, on his neck, in his ear, he heard her open her mouth... to speak.

"I want you."

Stepping back, she placed her fingers at the button that would begin her foray into his pants. One second and she was flipping his jeans open and pulling down the zipper. Slowly, ever so slowly she moved. It was as if she was trapped in someplace where time stood still and she was battling against the current. He waited and watched, his dark eyes on the crown of hair atop her head. He felt her push his jeans down over his hips and felt her push them down, down, down until they lay around his ankles. He stepped out of them.

Her hands then went to her own jeans and she undid them, slowly easing them down over her hips and catching her underwear on the way. She took them both off at once, over her hips and down her legs until she stepped out of them and then tossed them aside. She was completely naked to his view.

Pale, so pale, he knew she had to be cold. Knew he should give her a blanket to warm her, give her coffee and tell her that she needed to rest. He couldn't bring himself to do that. At this moment in time he wanted nothing more than to just... touch her.

Only one barrier remained between him and her. His boxers. And she seemed in no hurry to remove those. She just knelt before him and pushed aside the little flaps that covered him from view. Then, she was delving, hand finding and dragging him out. What was half hard at the sight of her became completely hard in her hand. His cock strained against her fingers and he groaned, a deep guttural sound.

She stroked him, her hand moving slowly up and down his length. Then it was her mouth, slipping over him slowly, engulfing the engorged head in her sweet mouth. Those 'Devil made me do it' lips closed around him and she sucked, sucked hard, drawing him into her mouth into her throat. He felt her moan more than he heard it, it vibrated down the length of his erection with the power of a lightning bolt. She took him in and then slid back and he felt the first drops of pre-cum as they emerged... felt them only because the tip of her tongue flickered across one, taking it up and spreading it around. She pulled away.

"God, I love the taste of you... the smell of you... the feel... of you... "

Her face was flushed and her breath ragged. Her eyes, those beautiful blue eyes that were the color of the deepest oceans... were on his flesh. His cock jumped in her hand and he watched as another clear droplet emerged from the tip of his shaft. She watched as well, then reached out with her tongue and took it up. For a moment it glistened there on the tip and then she closed her mouth and swallowed. He could see her savoring it, see her inhaling him spreading the essence of him around in her mouth.

He wanted her then, more than he ever had before. It was a driving need so consuming that he thought he may just die... should she deny him now. Grasping her shoulders, he eased her to her feet and watched as slowly, ever so slowly, that smile that he loved so well... began to appear.

He dragged her away from the wall, pulling her with him. His lips found hers without pretense and he sucked her tongue, tasted her mouth, and nipped at her lips. He tumbled them into the front room and they stood there, bared before a set of big bay windows. The rain ran in torrents down the glass, obscuring the view out, and quite probably, the view in. There was a mirror on the wall, a big body length mirror and she stared at it, stared at them in it.

At first he didn't realize what she was looking at, what she saw. And then he knew. And smiled and heard her breathing become that much more harsh. He could see himself in that mirror, and her. His erect cock strained between them and he watched as the reflection of her reached up and tugged at the elastic waistband of his boxers, pulling them down. The boxers went the way of their other clothing, casually tossed aside the moment he'd stepped free of them.

He turned her around so that her back was to his chest, they faced the mirror then. His hands slowly crept around her, one arm sliding across her waist, the other arm snaking just beneath her breasts. His hand rested on the stylized tattoo of a phoenix that was located just under her left breast. He stroked it. He hated that tattoo because it was significant to her in a way that he couldn't stand. She'd been burned by so many men before, so many, and so she'd gotten the tattoo as a reminder to herself. A reminder that no man could touch her... that she would always rise from the flames of ruin.

He covered it with his hand so that he didn't have to see it. He covered it with his hand so that he could deny its existence. She reached up, and covered it as well. He looked in the mirror again, and saw that she was smiling.

"I know what you're thinking... your thoughts are so much mine... that I can practically hear them..."

She pressed her buttocks against him, his shaft sliding between her thighs. She cradled him there, but did not take him inside.

"You think that you haven't touched me... you think that you haven't marked me... but you have..."

He grasped her tighter, his arms squeezing the breath from her body. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as she spoke, as her voice rustled through the branches of his mind, disturbing. He dug his hand into her skin, pressing against that phoenix even as she pressed back against him.

"I need you, I want you. I want you to stake a claim... to make me yours... to hold back nothing... and fear nothing. I know you... better than I know myself... and I know that you've been keeping yourself from me..."

She paused her hips moving in a slow rhythm so that the length of him slipped back and forth between her thighs. He choked back a cry and ground his teeth together. Her wetness was beginning to come forth. His pre-cum was beginning to ease the way. She kept him so close to where he wanted to be... but never there.

"Keeping yourself from me because you thought I was fickle, callow... that you were nothing but a good fuck..."

His arms tightened again. God, how he wanted her. He was keeping himself in check, barely hearing her words. There was a feeling, a tense vibration in the air... and he knew. He knew. If she took him now, he would give, give himself, give everything that he was. Into her keeping. She knew that if he took her now... she would do the same.

"I love you."

The words cracked like a whip in the quiet of the air. Her soft voice speaking them so solemnly was the breaker. He roared then, a half-broken, half-desperate sound, and plunged into her. He slammed himself into her body and held there, gasping, his breathing labored. He looked past her shoulder and saw them in the mirror. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, lips wet and waiting for his kiss. She shuddered in his arms, her body shaking with the force of her need, the power of his need.

He bent her forward slightly, and wrapped himself around her. She spread her legs a bit and he stood between them. There was no piece of skin that did not touch another. They were sealed, back to chest, man to woman... together.

"See how beautiful we look?" Her words were soft, lethargic. "See how we fit... perfect... together...?"

"Yes..." His voice was broken, the merest whisper into her ear as he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her hair.

"God, I can still taste you on my lips." He heard her groan. "Take me, claim me... fuck me... I want you to."

He pulled back, and thrust in again. And again. He grasped her tightly to him and stared over her shoulder into the mirror. He watched her face as he pulled away, watched her expression as he slid into her again. She was wet, so wet for him. He slipped so easily into her body...

Into her body...

Into... her body...

God, the thought just kept echoing in his head. He was inside, he was invading, he was so close to her that there were no walls between them, no barriers... no space. No space, between them.

He pounded into her, shaking her body with the force of his thrusts. His hand slid upwards, exposing the phoenix, grasping at her breast. He kneaded, squeezed, and listened to her moan. The slap, slap of flesh against flesh echoed in the room, loud and intoxicating. The wet suction of her passage at it squeezed at him, desperate to hold onto him, was the strongest aphrodisiac that he'd ever encountered.

She panted, moving her hips against him, grinding herself against him whenever he stopped thrusting. She hungered for him, wanted, needed, desired...

"Oh, god... fuck me..."

He withdrew and pressed back, and she could feel him, feel every inch of his hardness as it slid into her waiting cunt. The friction of his skin so deep inside of her. The push of the head of his cock against her womb. She wanted him to feel that... feel how deep he was. She grasped his hand and placed it flat on her belly. He withdrew and thrust and withdrew and thrust. Pounding into her so hard...

"I feel that... God... I feel you... feel me inside of you..." He groaned.

He could. He could feel every ripple of vibration as he plowed so deep into her belly. With his palm flat on her abdomen... he could feel every thrust. And he thrust, and thrust... reached deeper, deeper, and deeper still. He heard her cry out, heard her moan his name. His hand slid lower, brushing through the tight curls that hid her from his view. Fingers searched, sought out, and delved. He touched her clit and she jumped, grinding herself back against him. He felt the violent shudder of desire as it streaked through her body, and he absorbed it.

Around and around, his fingers danced over her clit. He flicked it lightly with his finger even as he pumped in and out of her with his cock. He felt her muscles tightening, felt her entire body tensing, felt her orgasm building... then it broke.

She screamed and bucked against him, her passage was so tight, so incredibly tight that it grasped him and wouldn't let go. Grasped him, grasped... and drew his own climax forth.

"Come... come in me... I want to feel it..."

Still in orgasm's thrall, she spoke, words that made him groan. He loved that, spilling, spilling inside of her. Leaving his essence there where it could blend and mix with her own arousal. Loved the scent of himself mixed with that of her sex. Loved... her...

He erupted then, coming violently and he could almost see himself. The white viscous fluid of his desire shooting deep inside of her. He bucked his hips against her and groaned. His hand closed over her breast and he squeezed with near violence. He held her to him, his body pressed to hers... he grasped at her... practically forced the air from her lungs with the violence of his need.

To keep her.

He came so hard that his cum overflowed her and spilled out. Gathering in the tight curls of her mound, glistening in wet smudges on her thighs. He jerked her roughly against him and heard her cry out. Her head fell back against his shoulder and he watched him in the mirror. His hand closed over the phoenix tattoo and he grasped the flesh, digging his nails into her soft skin. As if he wanted to rid her of that mark.

"The phoenix rises from the flames," He gritted. "And she is... mine...