Chapter 6: A Rogue and Peasant Slave

24 May 2015

We slept soundly our first night and woke up spooned together. I had my hand on her tummy rather than her breast. I don’t know why that made a difference except that we were both completely naked and my morning hard cock was definitely being squeezed between two very nice buns. Ella’s tummy muscles were clenching rhythmically. She was awake before me. I’m not sure if she was intentionally trying to milk my cock with her ass or if that was just a side-effect of her manipulating her clit with her fingers.

Ella was masturbating.

My fingers drifted up to her breast and I softly caressed it, eliciting a quiet moan. While I’d held her breast often enough, I’d never really made a conscious effort to stimulate her nipples. That was an oversight I rectified, and in the next five minutes, Ella’s voice rose from quiet moans to louder whines. When she came, her ass cheeks clamped down on my cock, trapping it between the two of us. She pulled my hand away from her breast and brought it to her lips, kissing it over and over.

“Did you come?” she whispered.

“No. I was enjoying your orgasm.” Her butt against me picked up speed. I had enough precome leaking to slick her crack.

“I got so turned on by having your cock there. I think I’ll come again if you do.” She pulled my hand back down to her breast and I started seriously playing with her nipples. And joining her in the thrust. So good. She squealed when the first shot of hot jism splashed between us. We’d been close to this point once or twice while we were wearing underwear to bed.

We held each other for a long time as we both came down from our orgasms. She periodically squeezed her butt against me, but my cock was not going to recover quickly, no matter how much I enjoyed the sensations. I placed a line of kisses along her shoulder.

“We could do it now,” she whispered. “I know we’re going to be lovers. We could just stay here and do it.”

“Um...”

“Oh, yeah,” she giggled. “I should have thought of that before you came. I need to go clean up a bit.”

“That’s a good idea. It’s difficult to shower in the trailer and there is no shower house here in the park. Let me know if you want me to wash up your back for you,” I said. “I’ll get coffee made as soon as I mop up a little, myself.”

“Yeah. Wash my back, my front, my middle. I know this isn’t all there is to traveling with you, Ari, but I’d be okay with it if it was.” We rolled out of bed, but before she went into the bathroom she turned in my arms and raised her lips to kiss me. We pressed fully together as we lost ourselves in each other’s passion. As I reckoned it, it was truly only our third kiss at this level. I could see myself kissing Ella again. A lot.

“What’s our next big adventure?” Ella asked as we broke camp. I was hitched and was checking the lights and making sure all the cubbies were locked.

“Mammoth Cave,” I said. She hit me in the arm. I turned to see her scowling at me.

“You haven’t even had a finger in it yet! Don’t you think it’s a little insulting to call it ‘Mammoth Cave’?” she asked. What?

“Ella ... um ... Oh! I didn’t mean...” I stammered out. She started laughing.

“Gotcha!”

“Jiminy Cricket, Ella. You about gave me a heart attack. Get your cute ass in the truck and let’s get out of here.” I put the steps away and closed the handrail before I went to the driver’s door.

Ella was rearranging the front seat. My CD case was on the floor, cup holders were retracted, armrest was up, and Ella was buckling herself into the center seat.

“There’s not much legroom in the middle,” I said. Stupid.

“I fold. Do you mind having me sit next to you?” she asked.

“Not at all. You just have to promise not to distract me while I’m driving. The truck and trailer weigh about four tons and I want to keep them on the road. Ella, I’d feel terrible if we had an accident and something happened to you.”

“I promise, Ari. I just want to be close to you so we don’t have to shout across the room. Or truck. Now take me to this mammoth cave you were talking about.”

We reached a campground near the National Park but I hadn’t been able to get a site in the park proper. It wasn’t yet Memorial Day, but the park was already full. The advantage was that we had full hookups and a nice shower available. My Passport America discount of 50% dropped the rate to below $20 a night for two nights. That’s one thing about RV camping across America. I could have camped in the National Park for $10 if there had been room because I had my new “America the Beautiful” pass. But even outside a national park or national forest, there are discount programs that will cut the cost of RV spots in half. I’d never be able to travel if I had to pay full rate. It was a good deal.

Of course, it was too late in the day to really go into the park and see anything, so we settled into the campground, took showers, and I built a fire in the nice firepit. I thawed out a couple steaks and scrubbed potatoes that I wrapped in foil and tossed in the fire. I was working at the counter in the trailer preparing a salad when Ella came in from her shower. In a second, I felt her arms come around me and her hands slide under my t-shirt, raising it in the back. She pressed her bare breasts into my back.

“Diminutive grotto,” she whispered. What? “La Cuevita. Petite coochie.” Oh! I need a word for little cave. That was a lot harder to come up with than it sounds.

“Um ... Are we discussing your Lilliputian pussé?” I asked.

“Ow! Let’s not be too extreme here. I’ve seen the size of your cock and Lilliputian is not going to accommodate it!” I turned in her arms and kissed her. “Let me get my clothes on so we can go out and enjoy the fire.” I watched as she slipped into a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt. That was all.

A Long Time Ago: Intramural

Just because I’m a theater geek doesn’t mean I never participated in any sports. In both high school and college, I played intramural basketball and ran track. Where I grew up, just about every boy in school was either on varsity, B-team, or freshman basketball teams and if they didn’t make a team, they played intramural. I had a graduating class of sixty-five students. Figure 32 of them were guys. Times four years makes 128 guys. The three official teams took out thirty of them. That left ninety-eight boys in the school. We had eight intramural teams.

In college, it was more selective, but I liked to play and needed to get exercise. I managed to play until I was a junior and started managing the scene shop. The schedule was so heavy that I couldn’t participate on the court any longer. It was too bad, really, because when I was a sophomore, they made our intramural teams mixed men and women. There weren’t that many women playing intramural basketball, but we had some deadly ladies with a round ball.

Sara Rich was one.

I’ve just always had a thing for tall ladies. Sara wasn’t huge, but she looked me straight in the eye when we talked. The guys on our team soon learned to treat her like an equal when, in fact, she was better than most of us. She was too light to play under the basket. Big guys were used to throwing their weight around to get rebounds. She gladly took a position as guard and play maker. And she was deadly from beyond the circle. Her outside shot went to the hoop like a magnet. If we’d had the three-point line back then, she’d have been the high scorer in every game.

We talked a lot when we were off the court and, since we roomed in the same dorm, we walked back from games and practice when I didn’t have to rush to a rehearsal. We were in the ‘New Dorm’ that had just been constructed and had a men’s wing and a women’s wing.

This is about uniforms. Those long shorts that hang down to a guy’s knees didn’t come into play until about the mid-90s. Prior to then, we played in regular gym shorts. They pretty much covered our asses. You wore a jockstrap because otherwise your junk would be hanging out of them. Women just wore panties, I guess. That was what I saw, anyway.

Yes, I saw. Before and after games, we stretched out. Sara was really into stretching and read me the riot act for not doing a good job of it. From that moment on, we were partners in stretching, often sitting with our feet against each other, stretching forward. I could see her cotton panties and the sweat that darkened them. I had to assume that she was looking up my shorts at my jock as well. Not that girls were interested in that kind of thing.

This was before the ultra support of jog bras, as well. That meant that female athletes either wore regular bras or went without. Lately, there had been a lot of women shedding the restrictive articles. I didn’t mind that a bit. I liked the look and feel of a woman’s nipples poking out her shirt. Deb always wore a bra in high school, but on our dates it was usually pushed up above her tits anyway.

Sara didn’t have enough boob to flop around a lot, but I loved the way they moved under her jersey. And when we leaned forward in our stretches, I liked the view even better than her panty-clad crotch.

“You can get a better look if you want,” she said as we stretched. I looked up into her eyes. Busted!

“Sorry, Sara. I just ... Sorry.”

“Well?”

“What?”

“You want to get a better look?”

“God, Sara. Just having this view is making my jock uncomfortable,” I said.

“We can take care of that, too. I’ve been trying to get you to make the first move ever since the season began.”

“Am I that stupid? Sara, I don’t even know how to make the first move. I didn’t even know you were interested.”

“Did you really think the dark spot on my panties when you look up the leg of my shorts was just sweat? Haven’t you noticed it gets bigger while we’re stretching?”

“Shit! You knew I was looking...”

“The same way I look up your shorts. And I like what I see,” she said. I was pretty sure I was blushing. I knew my cock was straining at my jock. “Well, since you don’t know what to do, I’ll have to take matters into my own hands. Just say so now if you aren’t interested in dipping your dick.” With that her hands slid up the inside of my thighs and into the leg holes of my shorts. She didn’t grab my cock, but just let her hands rest on me on either side of my jock.

“Hell, yes, I’m interested,” I said. “Sara, you’re great. I’m just not very experienced. I really like you and...”

“Save it, Ari. I’m not asking you to marry me. But girls get horny, too. What do you think the whole women’s liberation movement has been about the past ten years? I’m a senior. I don’t have much time left before I have to start acting responsibly as a nurse. I’ll have to focus sex on doctors so I can trap one into marrying me. He’ll knock me up and I’ll never see a new dick again.” She grinned at me. “Oh, Ari,” she said in a higher voice. “Won’t you come to my room and help me study tonight. I have a test in human anatomy I need to practice for.”

I held out my hands to her and she slid hers out of my shorts to take them. We stood up and headed toward the dorm. We agreed to take a quick shower in our own dorm wing and I’d come around the back to the emergency exit on the girls’ wing. Sara would meet me there in fifteen minutes.

“Wear your uniform,” she said. “I like the look. But lose the jock.”

I showed up at the side door of the dorm just as Sara opened it and rushed me up the exit stairs to her room.

“No roommate?” I asked.

“Gone for the weekend. Isn’t that convenient?” Sara giggled. She had also donned her jersey and shorts after a shower. I expected her to slow down once we were in private, but she hit overdrive instead. “I think gym shorts are the sexiest thing ever,” she said as we sat on the edge of her bed and she ran a hand up under the leg. I’d taken her at her word and in a couple seconds, my bare cock was rock hard in her hand. At twenty, I didn’t need much stimulation to be ready. “Don’t you think gym shorts are sexy, Ari?” She pulled one of my hands to her thigh and I got the message.

I’d had enough experience fingering girlfriends to know the terrain and on my bike trip summer before last, I’d gotten a face-to-face introduction to the hidden charms of a woman. And as of last summer, I was no longer a virgin, just inexperienced. I found Sara to be wet and writhing as soon as I started exploring. My other hand went under her jersey and I found the swell of her breast with its hard tip.

“Yeah! You learn quick. We’ve got all weekend to explore and be loving,” she said. “Right now, I just want you to fuck me.”

“Let me get your clothes off,” I suggested.

“No time for that,” she said. She squirmed around and lay back as she got my stiff cock out through the leg hole of my shorts. She just pulled the crotch of her shorts to the side and guided me in.

“Protection?” I gasped as I sank into her.

“I’m on the pill. Fuck me.”

I did. It didn’t last long for either of us. Which was a good thing. Her shorts rubbed against the side of my cock with every thrust. I could get a blister from this if it went very long. I leaned back with both hands under her shirt and pinched her nipples as I rammed home one more time and started spraying. “Ye-ah!” Sara screamed.

Over the course of the weekend, I got about ten times the experience I’d had up to that night. Licking, sucking, fucking. Sara introduced me to half a dozen positions, including standing up and leaning against her door. She was tall enough that it didn’t require any booster to match my cock with her pussy.

We kept this up through the rest of the basketball season, usually just heading for her room on Friday night after our game and fucking until I had to go to rehearsal on Saturday. There was never anything serious between us. She was clear that she had to get all her experiences in before she graduated and that included picking up a hurdler when track season started.

Since then, there’s been no better way to turn me on than to parade around in gym shorts.

Back to Ella

The evening was beautiful. And so was Ella. I grilled the steak and got the potatoes out of the coals. We ate at the picnic table next to the trailer. We took a glass of wine and cuddled in my camp chair to watch the fire. I set my wine glass down and kissed Ella.

Is it a character flaw to be reluctant to make the first move on a woman? Well, there’s a limit to how many times I can accept rejection. It’s 73. That’s probably why I quit trying to get someone else to publish my books and started my own company. The rejection to acceptance ratio for manuscripts is about 99:1. Somewhere along about 73, I quit submitting things. I believe that’s the exact number of times Treasure rejected me before I quit trying.

I decided this was going to be different. While we kissed, my left hand slid under Ella’s shirt to caress her breast while my right hand slipped into her shorts to cup her ass.

“Ella,” I said as we came up for air. “I promised I wouldn’t push you and I’ll back off if you say to. But sweetheart, may I make love to you?”

“No,” she said. I sat back and started to withdraw my hands, but she clapped her hand over mine on her breast. “With me, Ari. I don’t plan to be a passive receptacle. Don’t make love to me. Make love with me.”

It was dark enough, even by the embers from our fire, that I felt comfortable switching my hands. I wrapped my right around her frame so I could continue to touch a breast with it and moved my left hand down to her thigh. I moved deliberately up her leg and into the leg hole of her shorts to find her wet and welcoming pussy.

“I want your cock out, Ari. Let’s go inside so I can have you naked.” I spread the ashes out in the firepit and followed her butt into the trailer.

Once the door was closed and locked, we got rid of each other’s clothes quickly. Ella stroked my hard on and made sure I was fully stiff.

“I’m going to suck you later,” she said. “I don’t want to risk getting you off and having to wait before you can get it in me.”

“Be my lover, Ella. Come to bed with me.”

We fell onto the bed and into each other’s arms. Though it might sound like we were hell bent for leather, our lovemaking was truly soft and sensuous. We faced each other and kissed as we petted, knowing at last that it wasn’t a question whether we would make love but rather the fact that we were. That relaxed us and let us simply enjoy the act. I couldn’t help but think of other bedmates over the past two years with whom getting to the act (and repeating it as frequently as possible) consumed our encounter.

Lying face to face on our sides isn’t the easiest way to make copulating pieces join. In fact, the only person it had ever been easy with was Alice. And I still didn’t know how we managed it so effortlessly. Eventually, Ella pushed me onto my back and straddled me. It’s probably my favorite position, especially for a first time. The woman can control speed and depth and when she is on top there is absolutely no question in my mind that she wants to be making love to me. To think that she is taking me inside her gives me an overwhelming feeling of love.

Ella kept eye contact with me as she sank down and engulfed me. Reality hit me about the same time our pubic bones touched.

“Ella, honey, we should have protection. I love this, but it’s so reckless of us.”

“Oh, god, Ari! Please don’t tell me you have a disease. I’m clean and was tested after my abortion. I haven’t been with anyone since. I got an implant so I wouldn’t have to worry about forgetting a pill again. I don’t want to take you out.”

“I’m clean and shooting blanks. Alice and I got tested while we were in Arizona at Christmas.”

“You even make Alice get tested?”

“No. That was kind of a courtesy to me. But we were with another woman in Phoenix and we both wanted to make sure.”

“The two of you with a woman?”

“Yes.”

“I think I just got wetter. Do you think Alice would be interested in me? She is so hot!”

“Let’s just enjoy the two of us together for now. Speaking of hot. You know, there was a time not that long ago that I thought I would never feel my cock inside a woman again in my life. Now that I’m in you, I want to lose myself in you,” I said.

“I’m not a mammoth cave,” she laughed. “I don’t think there’s a danger that you’ll get lost.”

“I don’t know,” I said as we moved together. “I want to explore every inch of you.”

“You’re exploring some inches that haven’t been touched in a long time. And, honest to god, you are so much better than a plastic cock! So. Much. Better.”

Have you ever stopped to think of the fact that when a cock meets a pussy, there is about a foot (or a little more) from the root to the maximum depth? As a guy, I’d only thought about the six inches of me that was being enveloped. But there’s an equal amount of woman being stimulated as we stroke together. I felt the familiar tingle and contraction that signaled an orgasm, but there was no accompanying spasm. I stayed hard. Ella came hard. I’d had a dry orgasm for the first time in my life and was building to another. When Ella dipped her head to kiss me deeply and passionately, my second orgasm was anything but dry.

“What are we going to do in Bardstown, Kentucky?” Ella asked when we pulled away from Mammoth Cave two days later. We’d actually explored the cave and been in a little boat they took into the caverns. It was pretty amazing to find such a vast underground network. I suppose that if there was some huge catastrophe, several thousand people could be housed down there. It made my spine crawl with shivers. Even two hours in the cavern had me nervously looking at every exposed light and focusing on breathing so I didn’t panic. It just creeped me out.

On the other hand, there was Ella hanging on tightly.

“Mmm. I’ve just recently been introduced to spelunking and there’s a tiny grotto I’d like to explore some more,” I laughed. Ella slapped me on the thigh. We had made love tenderly and vigorously the previous night. Nor was I the only initiator of the contact. When Ella said with, she meant a truly equal partnership in bed.

“The tiny grotto might be closed for repairs after your exploration this morning,” she laughed. “You’re supposed to explore, not excavate and try to make it bigger.”

“We were a little wild this morning,” I said. “Are you sore?”

“A little. You might have to see if there are any other nearby caves for you to explore.” That didn’t discourage me. “But you could go spelunking till your heart’s content anywhere. Why Bardstown?”

“Kentucky Bourbon,” I answered. “It’s the Bourbon Capital of the World. Of course, I wouldn’t have discovered that if it wasn’t for Nat. He was one of my two or three best friends in high school and retired there. Possibly the most interesting life of anyone I know.”

“Hmm. An old friend and whiskey. Why don’t you teach me anything I need to know special about driving this truck so I can get your drunk ass home safely.”

“I’ll try to stay sane. Neither of us are big drinkers. But since you are traveling with me, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have you able to drive the rig. Let’s go to Walmart,” I said.

“We need some supplies to teach me how to drive this?”

“No. We need a big empty parking lot.”

“Technically, we were smuggling. But no one had actually put a value and tax on jade and it wasn’t until some professor made a big deal about how valuable it was that the locals figured out they could make money off of it,” Nat said. “The thing is that we had to drive almost to Guatemala to get the stuff. Bill and I loaded up the Econoline with the rocks until it practically dragged on the ground. We paid the locals who thought we were loco about a hundred bucks for a truck full of rocks. In Chicago, we could sell it for about ten grand.”

Ella and I had a polite and somewhat reserved dinner with Nat and Pat, his wife. It was soon obvious that neither of the women had anything to contribute to Nat’s and my conversation about growing up in Indiana and everything that had happened since. Eventually, they dropped us off at my trailer and I lit the propane firepit while Pat and Ella went off shopping. I broke out some of my best cigars and Nat contributed a bottle of Triple Crown Bourbon. Then we sat and told stories.

A Long Time Ago: Pinochle

I boycotted the girls in my class during my junior year in high school. That’ll show them. Think they can choose who I date. They didn’t notice. Of course, the fact that Jill went to a different school and there were a couple of other cuties there who were interested made it easier to ignore the girls in my class. But since I wasn’t hanging out with girls at lunch, Nat and I often ended up in an unused classroom playing pinochle during lunch. It wasn’t a private game and a few other guys would occasionally join us on a rainy day. Most of them wanted to play poker and a few would play euchre. Whenever we had a choice, though, Nat and I played pinochle.

It was almost unheard of for a girl to join the game. Of course, when word started to spread that we had a classroom to ourselves at lunch and didn’t sit in the gym with everyone else, there was a quick scurry to camp out there. It got so noisy in the room with a dozen girls in a corner giggling, a dozen guys talking about football and Notre Dame’s chances for a national championship, three couples making out, and five of us trying to figure out if there was a five-hand variation of pinochle. Coach Hancock walked into the classroom and blew a whistle.

It was his classroom. We all got thrown out.

Eventually, the card players were allowed back in under the auspices of being a school club. Nat had presented the idea to the principal as being the equivalent of a chess club. He was even more a geek and social outcast than I was, but he could put together a convincing argument for just about anything.

When the club reconvened, there were four of us. Perfect. Nat and I, Tom Little, and Anne Waverly.

There’s always someone in your extended circle that you never notice and then twenty years later, that person has turned into something incredible like an astronaut or a rock star or something. Anne was that person. She was a mousy girl with black-rimmed glasses and nondescript brown, stringy hair. Her skirts hung below her knees and she wore baggy sweaters, the sleeves often completely covering her hands. She was easy to overlook because she was less than shoulder-height on me. And she seldom looked at anyone.

But she was a good card player and when we partnered, we usually won.

Anne was interested in the cards for other reasons. She often had a comment about the design and had several decks in her big purse, all from different manufacturers. She’d sometimes mutter about getting the lovers together in a foursome and then lay down a double-pinochle. That’s two queens of spades and two jacks of diamonds.

“The Queen of Spades is the empress,” she’d say. “The Jack of Diamonds is her mistress.”

“You can’t have a male mistress,” Nat argued.

“What do you call it?” Anne demanded.

“Consort,” I suggested. “Isn’t that what they call Prince Phillip? The Queen’s Consort?”

“Hmm.” Anne got a sketchbook out of her bag and made a note, quickly sketching something out. “I’ll be the Queen of Spades one day. If you’re lucky, I’ll choose you as my Royal Consort.” She was always sketching something. After lunch she’d disappear into the art classroom. I wasn’t sure she took any other classes. I never saw her during the school day.

At our twenty-fifth class reunion, I thought I was pretty hot stuff. I brought Treasure with me, though she chose to leave early so I could have fun with my classmates. My first non-fiction design book was out and doing okay. I was earning a living as an editor and book designer. And trainer. I was in demand as a public speaker. None of my plays had hit Broadway, but Fishbowl was enjoying a run at a semi-professional rep company in Indy.

I was disappointed that Deb didn’t make it to the reunion and devastated to find out she’d passed away from cancer the year before. She’d become the first member of my class to die. Shannon got me out on the dance floor and occupied me for a while suggesting that we had some unfinished business from the last week of senior year we needed to get to. With my wife and daughter waiting for me at the Holiday Inn, that wasn’t going to happen. We’d just chalk it up as an unfulfilled fantasy.

“Who’s the dish in the corner?” I asked, pointing at a blonde in a slinky black dress, spike heels, and pearls.

“The bitch in black?” Shannon spat. “Every girl in our class has put on twenty pounds in twenty years. She decides to dump her frump look and be the Queen. She calls herself the Queen of Spades.”

“That’s Anne?” I gasped.

“You have to know, Ari, that Deb wasn’t the first girl I’d ever been with. I was her first. But if I’d known what was under those baggy sweaters of Anne’s, I’d have arranged a different threesome that night and wouldn’t have left you to get sucked by my sister.”

“You knew?”

“She bragged.” We finished another dance and Shannon shoved me toward the Queen of Spades.

“Anne? It’s Ari. I didn’t recognize you. How’s life?” I asked when I approached her table. She looked at me and rolled her eyes.

“Honestly, Ari. Do you think I wouldn’t know you? I wondered how long it would take for you to figure it out.”

“Well, Craig didn’t recognize me when I came in. I assumed I’d changed as much as everyone else. Like you.”

“I saw your play.”

“You don’t sound enthused.”

“Nothing wrong with it. You just needed a plot and characters.”

“Ouch. Why did you bother to see it?”

“My famous classmate? I needed to see what the Queen’s Consort was up to.”

“He’s, um ... happily married.”

“You sound disappointed in that. I brought you a present.” Under the table, she had a large bag. I guess some things don’t change. What she brought out was a deck of cards. It seemed thicker than most decks. “I was thinking about giving a deck to all my classmates, but decided to keep them for myself. Here. I’ll give you two decks. Go ahead and take a look, but don’t show them around. I think you’ll appreciate the Queen of Hearts.”

I quickly leafed through the deck. Every card was a face card with different names and several additional suits. Each was painted with the image of one of my classmates. Most were shown in fantasy settings and wouldn’t be immediately recognizable. They were suited, but there were more than the four normal playing card suits. Acorns? Slide rules? A legend was written at the bottom of each card with power and points. I didn’t really understand. I finally found the Queen of Hearts and looked down on the face of my lost high school girlfriend, Deb. I had trouble looking at the rest.

“Take your time with them, Ari,” Anne said. “But you know who the Queen of Spades and the Jack of Diamonds are.”

“These are pretty amazing. I’ve never seen a deck that resembles it.”