Chapter 2

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me!

OK, so the first time he told me that, it was in a story on this website, but I can live with that, for he soon told me face to face a thousand times in one glorious weekend. But I still can't believe that such an intelligent man, such a worldly man, didn't realize that a woman needs to be told about love while looking into her eyes, while holding her, while she can hear his breathing and feel his heart beat, the touch of his hand on her body. It is that most intimate of moments, far exceeding the sensation of cock in cunt, the moment that a woman knows, unless the bastard is lying just to get into her pants, when she knows that she made the right choice.

That stupid fuck, telling me that he loves me in a way that lets any reader on this website know about it before me. How could such a wonderful man be so dumb, using AOL or Hotmail or Yahoo or whatever to tell me those three magic words!

'Speak for yourself, John Alden.'

And who the hell is this Aleta cunt he wrote about? Sean says he loves me, but he writes all about fucking some girl's ass and falling in love with her. So what if it was years before he met me. Sean, you bastard, you should have been waiting celibate until you met me; the only thing resembling an asshole that your cock should have been in is your tight fist. Bastard!

He says he can't wait to fuck me in the ass. Well, that's one thing I can't figure. Remember, he did have his cock up there back in Maui, but he pulled out and shot his cum all over my cheeks. Well, if by definition he thinks that means that he didn't fuck my ass yet, I think that's kind of classy. Or maybe crazy!

But I love him anyway, and he knows it. Bastard!

When I got back to New York from the trip to Maui, I was frustrated. I don't mean sexually frustrated, even though I am perpetually horny, but mentally frustrated, having used those carefully guarded words to him but not having heard them in return. I tried to push the bastard out of my mind; yes, at the time I was still thinking of him as a bastard. Howard convinced my publisher to give me a one month extension. I threw myself into the unfinished book; my words poured out into the recorder and my secretary Eva pounded the keyboard so much that her fingers shook whenever we took a sixty-nine break.

And then that satisfying morning when I dictated 'The End' and handed the last tape to Eva, who finished it off at lightning speed. Once the backup disc and extra printout were in the apartment safe, we curled up in my bed with two copies of the manuscript. Eva was one of the very few people with whom I shared my bed; most of my sexual adventures-fucking, if you prefer-were in hotels or in someone else's home. That way, I kept my privacy. Eva and I read separately, looking for typos, inconsistencies and just plain lousy writing.

We had a really fun tradition, reading fifty pages at a time and then one of us would eat the other. This time I went first; at the bottom of page fifty, I put my copy and black marker on the table and rolled over to her, my head going under the cover. We were both already naked and our hands had rubbed each other's thighs as we read. I'm a righty and Eva a lefty, so we could both work and fondle at the same time.

As my head left the daylight, I still saw Eva in my mind. She's twenty-eight, five foot three, flaming red hair, 34B tits, a drop dead gorgeous face. If I was a lesbian, I would marry her today, fuck Sean. Oh, Sean, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that, darling. Oh, Sean, I miss you so, I can't wait to see you again, to be in your arms, to be underneath your body. Oh, Sean, I love you so much. Eva was shocked when I came back from Maui with a bald pussy but I still can't get her to shave hers. Who cares, it tastes delicious anyway.

She spread her legs to make room for my face. I inhaled the sweet fragrance drifting up from her pussy and I opened her lips with my fingers. Without seeing, I knew that her eyes had closed. Her hand caressed the back of my head. I knew that in fifty more pages, she would be between my legs, pleasuring me, and I knew that I must pay her in advance with equal love and attention. My finger slid down to her back entrance and worked its way inside; her sigh told me that she welcomed it. What a shame that so many women are uptight about that; it doesn't hurt, it feels nice, and it's a fun way to please your lover.

My thumb probed into her pussy as my tongue licked along both sides of her slit. My lips tightened on her clit and I felt her body tremble as it approached a silent orgasm. I knew from experience that Eva is a squirter, that when she cums her juices gush. I drink down as much as I can, but far too much is wasted on my face and on my sheets. She came with a teeny moan and I began to suck her offering, swallowing fast. No one else does that for me, and it's a shame to miss a single drop. When she was finished squirting, I lay my face down on the wet spot on the sheet, between her legs, and licked the inside of her thighs as my pounding heart slowed down. My nose again savored her scent, and sent electrical impulses to liquefy my snatch.

No one does that for me save Sean, my beautiful Sean.

I sighed, and with a last lick moved my head out from under the cover, knowing full well that in fifty more pages I would be the one on my back with my eyes closed. I kissed Eva, my tongue allowing her to taste what I had tasted. Then we sat up together and resumed on page fifty-one. When I reached page one hundred, I closed my eyes and slid down prone; my hands kneaded my tits and my thumbs flicked my nipples. Without prior planning, it turned out that page one hundred had ended with the characters in the book adjourning to the heroine's boudoir to finally consummate their love. I sighed as Eva's face rubbed my freshly-shaved pussy, tongue exploring and withdrawing, her gums gnawing my little man in the boat. Imagining the fictional characters behind closed doors, I pulled Eva up to kiss her lips, to taste my own juices, to feel her erect nipples pressing into me, and especially to line up her knee between my legs to hump me, and herself, to orgasm.

Oh, Sean, eat me, eat me, eat me, please.

Another fifty pages, more pussy, then again at two hundred. After that, however, by unspoken mutual agreement, it was all reading, no sucking, until our review was completed. Then it was time to make the corrections. That project was always a marathon; the clock was forgotten. We would work until we were finished. We stayed in the den, working without clothing. First the typos, then we would argue out the seeming inconsistencies. Finally I would have to re-do the parts that really stunk.

If we were hungry, my maid would bring in sandwiches. She would always stare at our nudity, sometimes with me rubbing Eva's back as she typed, but we never suggested that the maid take off her clothes and join us. You may think that my morality is a bit off, but the maid, Ilse, was an immigrant without good English, and we both felt that she was off limits. If she had ever asked to join us, we would have thrown her down on the bed and ravished her, but we would not make the first move. Eva was particularly adamant about that.

The marathon job was finished by about midnight. We ran another copy, and made backup copies of the typed result and the computer disc for the safe. I wrote the salary check and the separate bonus check for Eva and called a car service for her. She would hand deliver the work in the morning, and I would not see her for at least a month; she and her husband had a cabin in the mountains. My tongue went down her throat as we said our adieus. I needed some sleep.

It was noon before Ilse woke me, carrying in a tray with coffee, juice and The Times. As always, my blanket covered me only to my waist. She stared openly at my exposed tits, and when I noticed where her eyes had gone, my nipples grew firm in reaction. I saw her eyes blink at the sight.

"You haf beautiful bresses, Miss maryjane."

My pussy began to leak. "Thank you, Ilse. Do you really think so?"

She nodded, her eyes remaining fixed on my nipples. I was hot, oozing.

"Please put the tray on that table, Ilse."

She carried it back across the room and I stared at her nice tight ass. I could see the panty line where her black undies met her skin; that stuff turns me on as much as it does any man. When she turned back to me, I asked, "Would you like to join me in bed, Ilse?"

She nodded. "I vould, tanks."

She began to open her dress, the buttons running all the way down the front. She started at the bottom, the little tease, and worked her way up. She tossed it over a chair, standing there with bikini panties and a strapless bra. My clit popped out, screaming 'Where's Sean, where's Sean?' Without a word, Ilse stepped on to the bed and stood over me; from my prone angle, it looked like her head would touch the ceiling. She reached behind her to open the bra, exposing large (European woman) tits. Her bra fell onto my face, and I inhaled the slight scent of some inexpensive, no cheap, eau de toilette. Her nipples, flat and dark, contrasted vividly with her pale skin.