Ace of Spades
Copyright© 2018 by Its a Kilt, Not a Skirt
Chapter 4
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 4 - In the 1980s, Conan Ace, a singer of slight fame, is having a tough go at life. Struggling with substance abuse and what he feels he's become, Conan believes life is empty. When he begins to meet a girl in his dreams, time on earth begins to have more meaning when he's with her and inside her.
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Cream Pie First Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Safe Sex Small Breasts Slow
October 20th, 1983, 6.03 am
Marie slipped out of bed silently, padding over in bare feet to the window and pulling back the drapes only enough to peer out. It was before dawn, still, so it was light enough to see out, but in a blue sort of way. She felt the stir of the breeze through the window screen on her exposed breasts and how it caused her nipples to stiffen and smiled. She felt so in tune with herself when she was naked. Even before Conan.
Quickly, not bothering to pull on any panties, she slipped into her jeans and pulled on a sweater, slipping her feet into sandals. Glancing at Conan still curled up beneath the blankets, fast asleep, she grabbed the spare key off the night stand, kissed his forehead, and left the motel room.
It may have been early, but the birds rose before the sun. The chickadees were singing their fair weathers as she walked, without any particular urgency, out into the birth of a new day. The air around her felt fresh and invigorating.
When she returned, about forty minutes later, the sun was up. She re-entered the motel room as quietly as she had left it, but Conan still stirred.
‘Where were you?’ He slurred, his voice thick with sleep. ‘I woke up ... and you were gone. Made me think you were a dream.’
‘Until you saw my panties strewn over the chair,’ Marie said.
An impish grin spread across his face like a ripple. When he was waking up, he couldn’t hide any of his natural responses. ‘Yeah,’ he agreed. ‘That’s true. Where did you go?’
‘My apartment,’ Marie said. ‘I managed to find some old coffee beans in the back of a cupboard. I made you a mug.’
‘Mm, so that’s what I smell,’ he murmured. ‘Sweet of you. Where’s yours?’
‘I don’t like coffee,’ Marie said. ‘It’s bad for you.’
‘Right,’ Conan said. He rolled his eyes, pretending to be seriously disapproving, but she could see the teasing sparkle in them. ‘The health nut.’
‘Green tea is good,’ she said passively. ‘The coffee beans were rather ancient,’ she added, slipping out of her shoes, ‘but it smelt fine while it was brewing and tasted just as awful as any other coffee does, so I think it’s fine.’
Conan snorted a laugh. ‘Put it on the nightstand,’ he suggested, waving his hand in its general direction. ‘Thanks. Come here.’
Marie stood by the edge of the bed. ‘Why? What do you need?’
‘You,’ Conan said. He reached for her jeans and unzipped them, pushing them clumsily off her hips with his sleepy hands. ‘Come warm my bed.’
Marie laughed. ‘But I got up!’ She protested.
‘So did I,’ Conan said, with a pointed look and a smirking grin. Marie followed his gaze and noticed the significant tent in the duvet.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Are you always this insatiable?’ She liked how needing he was, but tried not to show it on her face.
‘No,’ he said freely, tugging at the hem of her sweater. ‘Take this damn thing off, Marie.’
