~~~
Day’s Verse:
Kiss me—full on the mouth!
Yes! For your love is better than wine, headier than your aromatic oils.
The syllables of your name murmur like a meadow brook.
No wonder everyone loves to say your name!
Song of Solomon 1:2-3 (context)
~~~

WARNING: *Extremely* explicit content in this post. It starts right after the three asterisks, so stop reading before that if you have a delicate constitution.

After her run, Summer felt exhausted but rejuvenated. She and Doug had hit things off so well outside of work, she knew in her gut that she’d get that job for sure. He’d been so friendly, so nice, so personable and likable and everything Summer hoped for in a boss—and in a man. But she already had a man, and Hunter was more exciting than anything she’d done during the course of her entire life.

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. College at Berkeley didn’t lend itself to a boring life, and Summer’s upbringing had primed her to take a forefront in some of the more interesting activities. She’d stayed clean of drugs, having seen their effects on her parents’ friends; she didn’t want to end up witless or dependent. Summer had learned very early on that she didn’t like to give up control of her body to anything, and that usually included drinking, even though her nights out with Hunter tended to result in heavier drinking than she liked. Okay, she didn’t like coming home smashed, even if it felt good at the time, but she did like spending the time with Hunter and the feelings she had while inebriated.

In college, she’d worked hard and done well, earning her scholarship and her parents’ willing support. Looking back, Summer wondered if she’d been something of a prude, never doing what all her friends thought of as fun—aside from making fun of Dan Quayle, which seemed bloom into an unofficial collegiate sport after the famous “potatoe” incident. But it hardly mattered; she had organized several rallies, one supporting Bill Clinton and another protesting the military action in Bosnia. She had followed the Rodney King riots closely, speaking at student events and marching with friends protesting the blatant racism of the verdict. Even now the thought of that unfairness made her blood boil, a reminder of why she had gone into journalism in the first place. She wanted to fight unfairness in the world, to reveal injustice, to right wrongs and bring pork-barrel rich politicians to an accounting.

Continue reading.That was the first time Summer asked herself whether even the Home and Garden job, however much a step up from her current position, was really the right decision. She had allowed herself to become sidetracked with becoming the perfect trophy wife for Lance, accommodating to his every need and measuring up to his friends’ expectations. She had effectively stalemated her writing career during those years, and now she realized she had the opportunity to refocus again on what really mattered.

“I could apply at The Seattle Times,” she told her reflection as she toweled her hair. “I bet The P-I would work, too, and there must be other smaller newspapers. But The Times would be great—a fresh start away from The Herald.” She smiled. It couldn’t hurt to start looking into openings elsewhere, could it?

She’d call Hunter and see what he thought. He had a solid head on his shoulders for all she had the sense he’d wasted a number of years fresh out of college. Well, people made mistakes; she certainly had. But now things were back on track; she would call the paper-stack lawyer and leave a message with his gum-popping secretary to get that deal straightened out, she would apply for a position at both major Seattle newspapers, and she would most importantly spend some more time with Hunter. They were developing a real bond, she felt, one that could become a very wonderful relationship over the course of time. She picked up the phone and dialed.

“Hi, you’ve reached Hunter. I’m not answering my phone right now, but if you’ll leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you.” Beeeeep.

This was a surprise. Summer had expected him to answer on the first ring, and certainly to answer before it went to voicemail. Caught unawares, she stuttered a bit, “Oh… Hi, it’s Summer. I just was calling to see how your day’s going and maybe bounce an idea off you. Give me a call back when you get a chance. OK, that’s all. I love you. Bye.”

Hmmm. Strange, very strange. Then again, Hunter maintained habits that Summer couldn’t imagine, and professors often kept odd hours to accommodate students anyway. Probably he was with a student right now.

* * *

Summer was more right than she knew, but also completely wrong.

“What kind of coffee do you like?” Chastity asked as they stood in line at the coffee shop. She hadn’t expected him to get back to her about the book that day, and she certainly hadn’t intended to ditch her friends to drink coffee with a professor. A really sexy, young, and available—sort of—professor. How had he gotten her number? Of course, she had suggested they meet at the Cup o’ Seattle in Bothell, and equally of course the book handoff had led almost immediately to her inviting him to share an innocuous cup coffee.

“Black,” he told her, but he didn’t look like his mind was on coffee. In fact, he had fast-forwarded to later that evening, to their inevitable passionate sex. He could hardly wait to see her naked, but he wasn’t going to make any first moves. Professors didn’t sleep with their students, not even continuing ed students who made the first move.

“Ewww,” she said, turning to look up at him with playful eyes. She stood close enough that he felt the tips of her breasts pressing against his chest and the warmth of her body seeping through the flimsy layers of clothing between them. “I can’t drink coffee that tastes like coffee.”

“Good thing you’re ordering, then,” he told her, “Because if you left it to me we’d have two grande coffees, black.”

Later, sitting on one side of the booth together, they talked, a kind of verbal foreplay. “So you’re a mycologist, is it?” Chastity asked him, nudging his ribs.

“Study of ’shrooms, that’s right.” Coffee sip, sideways eyes glance.

“So can you hook me up?”

“With what?” He was playing innocent, but Chastity knew better. He had probably gone into mushroom-ology to know which produced the most interesting effects when eaten.

“’Shrooms, obviously. Good ones.” Chastity didn’t often do drugs, but at the same time didn’t shy away from a snort of something strong. She liked feeling good, and took that where she could get it.

“Depends,” he told her, a sly grin on his face. “’Shrooms can be pretty dangerous. Depends on what you can handle and what you’re looking for.”

“I’m always looking for a good time,” she said, eyeing his chest, gaze coming to rest in a direct and suggestive stare.

“Well I can certainly hook you up with a good time, but it doesn’t have to involve ’shrooms, you know.”

“Professor, what are you suggesting?” Playful, but suddenly Chastity thought she’d ruined the mood by reminding him of their disparate roles. He was only ten years older than her, but it could as well be a lifetime if he resumed the professorial responsibility.

“Miss Williams, I’m suggesting you have a great deal of education
left” the type of education he meant was unmistakable and hardly academic. “and I am the perfect person to teach you.”

“Oh, call me Chastity,” she giggled, secretly pleased. “Professor, I think I’m better educated than you think.”

“My dear,” still maintaining the faux-professor demeanor but somehow managing to also look as if he could see beneath her clothes, a distinctly exciting suggestion, “I have a doctorate in this subject. Trust me when I say I can teach you things that would make your mother blush.”

“My mother was a street whore,” she lied, and enjoyed watching the shocked expression on his face as it faded into disbelief.

“No way.”

“No, I’m just kidding. My mom’s an accountant. Most boring person on the face of the planet.”

“Much better. Even if you’re lying—”

“—I’m not!”

He tapped the side of his nose knowingly and ignored her interruption. “—an accountant sounds appropriate. In any case, perhaps I could interest you in some extra-academic tutoring? To catch you up?”

“I still think I’ve got some to teach you, but sure. I hope this doesn’t mean additional tuition payments?”

“This is will be a strictly under-the-covers operation,” he told her, then quickly amended his pretend slip, “I mean, under-the-table.” She laughed and buried her face in her coffee. He was funny, and that helped, but she really just wanted to dance the horizontal hokey-pokey with him. Forget all this talking.

Indeed, both wanted more than anything to move past this moment, but until somebody made a move, each just drank the coffee and bantered with the other. Finally Chastity removed the top of her cup and looked into it, then drank it down, tipping her head back to get the dregs.

The moment moved from lightly playful into something more serious, more emotionally-charged. She felt Hunter’s hot eyes on her, knew he was admiring the curve of her graceful neck and the way her hair fell as she tilted her head. She imagined his lips against her white skin, sucking desperately as he thrust inside her. This would be a good night, just a one night thing, and she could hardly wait.

“Chastity.” His voice, normally higher, a trained tenor from what he’d told her were years on the radio, had become husky.

“Yes?” Innocence escaped her, but he saw the excitement and expectation burning in her eyes, saw the fulfillment of his earlier hopes in their depths.

“Would you like to come back to my place? I think I have some ice cream, we could cool off from the coffee…” It had to be the world’s lamest excuse to come into an apartment, but Chastity immediately agreed.

As Hunter stood in his dark doorway fiddling with the key—the lock seemed to be stuck—Chastity moved up behind him, wrapping her arms around his narrow chest, feeling his ribs and the muscle lightly covering them. He felt like a furnace was lit inside him, and as she slid her hand downwards, she felt him stiffen. He had a belt on, damn him, so Chastity kept her hand outside his pants but wrapped her hand around his fully erect penis and pressed against him. His breathing increased as he turned from the still-locked door to roughly wrap his arms around her, pressing his lips against hers with a desire that took her breath away. They kissed, bodies molding together in the darkness, as if their wills alone could bring the ecstasy of penetration, the ache and glow of orgasm. After a time, Hunter released her and she stood back, watching the heave of his chest, panting with desire herself. Her pulse raced.

Finally he got the door open, both of them stepping in together, closing the door and leaning against it in a flurry of even more intense passion. His belt came off immediately, followed by his shirt—it actually ripped in their eagerness—and he slid his hands up, pushing her shirt over her head until she stood in only her black bra, pushed-up breasts heaving. They paused for a moment, eyes drinking in one another’s bodies, minds flying ahead to what was to come.

Hunter moved in, kneeling down, slipping Chastity’s pants and black silk underwear down off her hips into a pile around her feet. He leaned into her crotch, burying his face in her vagina, tongue flicking and probing as she became increasingly wet and aroused. Chastity twisted her fingers in his hair, leaning against the door, moaning with desire. The moment came when she couldn’t take anymore, the sweetness of his touch driving her wild with the need to have him enter her and begin thrusting. She pulled him up, kissing his lips, neck, and face in frantic desire. He slipped his pants off at last to reveal his enormous penis, which Chastity immediately began to stroke him, eliciting moans of desire from him as well. Her touch was electric to Hunter. With her hands on his bulging manhood, all Hunter could think about was entering her.

They moved as one to the unmade bed, sensing nothing but one another’s touch. Hunter ran his hands long Chastity’s body, feeling the softness of her skin, the heat radiating off her in palpable waves. No woman had elicited such desire from him in a very, very long time. Her hands around his penis lit an unendurable desire in his body to take her, hard and long. They stood a moment with Hunter’s calves against the edge of the bed, and then Chastity pushed his him down onto the bed with one hand on his chest as she held her magnificent hair back with her other hand. She crawled over him, her mouth around his penis, her tongue agonizingly soft and moist and warm as she moved her vagina over his own mouth. Hunter flicked and explored with his tongue as she used both hand and mouth to bring him almost to climax already. Hunter slipped his finger into her vagina, rubbing, and received a gratifying groan of longing and pleasure as she moved her hips to thrust against his hand. The need to join grew within them until neither thought they could stand it any longer, and still they stood it, and then Chastity swiftly moved around, centering herself on him.

Instead of the quick downward thrust Hunter ached for, she settled herself slowly down on his penis, her head thrown back and glorious breasts, still in their black bra, thrust out. Hunter reached up, fondling her breasts as she slowly sank down onto him, finally fulfilling the longing within them. She leaned forward, breasts grazing his lightly haired chest, kneeling over him as they thrust together in tandem, at first very slowly, slowly building. Hunter clutched her to him, gasping with the effort of thrusting up into her warm darkness; Chastity felt that glow, the desire and fulfillment of the desire at the same time, radiating from her vagina to flow across her whole body as she pressed against Hunter. Their rhythm became increasingly frenzied until Chastity’s moans became howls and Hunter’s face took on a look of distraction. They clung together, moving as one body, as both came to climax together, orgasms wracking their bodies in shudders of delighted ecstasy.

Afterwards, Chastity lay against Hunter, really seeing him for the first time: The muscled outline of his legs and the light muscles across his chest, the sinews in his neck and arms, the relaxed penis lying among his darker pubic hairs. Hunter looked at her too, admiring her delicate features and the way her sex-rumpled hair looked so beautiful. He had never seen a woman with more perfect, uplifted breasts, their nipples pointing forward and begging his lips to suck them. Her curving hips and flat stomach, her shapely legs with their well-defined calves, her slender arms and pianist’s hands all called to him. They lay together in contentment, breathing returning to normal.

Perhaps one of them dozed off for a while, but all either remembered was that much later in the night, Chastity’s hand once again wandered to his manhood, stroking it as he simultaneously came
awake and aroused. His hands stroked her breasts, this time luxuriously, memorizing and admiring her every curve and valley. Their lips sought one another’s once more and for a long time they lost themselves in the burn of their passion. Or: My NaNoWriMo profile.