Chapter 18

Once she was satisfied my face was clean of her juices, Libby pushed up at my shoulders and I rolled off of her.

There was a HUGE smile on her face, which turned almost predatory as she reached over to touch my erection.

I was so turned on that precum was leaking freely, and when she wiped it up with a finger and then sucked that finger clean, I involuntarily let out a low moan of lust.

Which only made her smile wider as she purred, “Now it’s your turn to drive, Mike.”

“Any preferences?”

She grinned, “Well, now I’m totally loosened up, slow and gentle simply isn’t gonna cut it. How about something seriously energetic? Say I grab my ankles and you take me?”

Take me.

Oh my!

I guess I probably now know Libby almost as well as anyone she allows to peek inside her shell. Oh, she’s an incredibly complex lady. I’m aware enough to know I only see what she wants me to see, but I believe I have some slight insight beyond that, thanks to some of the classes I’ve taken, and my sessions with the counselor after my world had gotten turned upside down by first finding out my girlfriend Amy was cheating on me, and then that the rest of my family were deliberately excluding me from their sex parties.

Yeah, the counselor had visibly winced when I told him my woeful tale. He was used to dealing with the emotional consequences of unthinking young love going bad, but admitted my experience was probably unique in its complexity. We’d had more than a few meetings that had run majorly over the scheduled time as he tried to help me understand and deal with the fallout. I’d learned a lot from him, one thing being that I’d totally benefited from a sympathetic ear, and that I owed it to myself to pay it forward if I ever came across someone else who needed help.

Not that Libby will ever need help, but I feel I can make her road a little less lonely.

Here’s my take on Libby. I may be way out – like I said, she’s complex. I’d defy a professional therapist to put their reputation on the line and state categorically what makes her tick. But, for what it’s worth, here are my conclusions:

By day, Libby is the role model for a strong professional woman, dressing for business not for sexiness. Formal, competent, constantly under huge pressure to succeed, required to be totally on top of her brief in a seriously competitive world. Respected for her undoubted mental abilities and capacity for hard work, visibly striving to be the very best at what she does, competing against a plethora of self-proclaimed alpha males. Knowing that in some ways she is forcing a pathway for the young women who come behind her.

The corporate legal world is dog-eat-dog. You’re only as good as your last success; if you want to rise to the top in a big law firm, you cannot show weakness – or ordinary decent humanity. Everything you do or say has to be considered carefully, because your rivals and opponents will seize on the slightest sign of a mistake or uncertainty. It’s negotiation on a titanic adversarial scale. The stress levels, like the sums of money involved, are sky high. Seriously unhealthy if you don’t have some form of pressure release valve.

Especially for a woman. Like a whole lot of professions, a female lawyer has to work twice as hard as a man to stay afloat, making up with devotion and competence the gap with male colleagues who play golf, go drinking together or share corporate hospitality at sporting events, in mostly all-male settings. Men-only clubs. Fraternities, if you like. Libby never actually complains about ‘the old boy network’, but I’ve seen her body language tense up whenever we’ve been out somewhere and run across a group of men obviously schmoozing each other. Men drinking together are ‘networking’, women are ‘gossiping and bitching’. Even I can see the unfairness of that, and I’m in no way a radical feminist.

Small wonder Libby needs to let off steam during the week. I feel supremely honored she selected me to be the agent of that relaxation.

Mostly when we meet up, it’s a mix of making love and hot monkey sex. Libby prefers being on top for our first connection, and I don’t ever have an issue with that, because she knows what works for her. I owe her more than I can ever repay her, and it’s not exactly a chore giving her the stress-reducing orgasms her mental health requires.

Tonight, though, she clearly required more than the usual release.

Her ‘take me’ code is all about setting free her animal passion by giving her no choice but to relinquish control, totally release her inhibitions, banish the work persona.

And as for grabbing her ankles, I take it as a huge compliment in how much she trusts me not to go overboard; to keep it as a one-off and to still fully respect her afterwards.

Not that she ever was a submissive – she’s far too strong a character for that – but occasionally she gets off on NOT being in control. She’s way more loyal to her ex than he deserves, but she’s admitted he wasn’t into variety.

One of the best pieces of advice Libby ever gave me with the girls was to keep trying different things, to actively experiment, always be willing to learn and take constructive criticism, and, most importantly, to treat them with respect, even – especially - when they were demeaning themselves in their eagerness to prove their love for me.

And I DO respect this amazing woman.

If I could only make a trade so she was my mother...

(Yeah, this was not the first time either Laura or I wished Libby was our mom, and not likely to be the last. Mom IS our mom, but her non-maternal behavior over the last few years has pretty much trashed the unconditional love and respect side of the deal.)

But I’m getting ahead of myself again.

I mentally vowed to do my very best to get Libby off big time. I owed her something extra-special.

I was SO glad we’d already gotten the first one out of the way, so I’d have some endurance.

I concentrated hard on the mechanics of what I was doing. When you’re trying to slam the whole length of your cock all the way in as hard and fast as you can buck your hips, it’s way too easy to pull out too far, and then you can seriously hurt each other if you can’t stop in time. There’s nothing like bending a stiff cock almost in half to kill desire stone dead...

After a minute or two, I felt confident enough in my muscle memory that I could spare a hand from keeping the spacing just right to work on Libby’s tits. Normally I would gently caress, stroke and tease them, but it seemed like more strenuous measures were in order. I squeezed each breast in turn before turning my attention to the nipples, which were crying out to be pulled, twisted and handled roughly.

It worked.

Oh boy did it work...

In the cramped posture of holding her own ankles, she had no chance of fucking back at me as she always did when we were in mutually lusty mode, but as she took everything I could give her, her face twisted in passion and her energies and priorities moved to getting oxygen into her lungs while urging me to ever-greater efforts.

As her orgasm REALLY ramped up, Libby stress-tested the hotel soundproofing. Not that I consciously had that thought at the time; I was way too busy just trying to hang on with my fingertips and outlast her...

But her internal muscles defeated me. I never worked out if it’s true that the vagina is optimized to ‘milk’ the semen out of a guy, but the sensations trampled right over any final resistance I could muster, and I gave her everything I had to give.

My knees buckled with the force of my orgasm, but I managed to disentangle us enough to push Libby safely back onto the bed before collapsing in total exhaustion beside her.

It was several minutes before our breathing quietened enough for conversation.

“Damn, I didn’t think I was still that flexible! Not bad for an old broad, hey?”

“Old? I’m beginning to think you’ve deceived all of us; if Toni is your daughter, you must have given birth while you were at Junior High. Me, I reckon she’s your sister.”

A huge smile, “Sweetie, I KNOW you’re lying through your teeth, but in this case, I don’t mind at all. After today at work, I can take as much flattery as you can give me. Uh, all that pressure on my bladder, I really need to pee; I’ll be back in just a moment.”

I poured us both a glass of fridge-cold water while she was in the bathroom and handed one to her as soon as she’d gotten settled back on the bed with a pillow in her back.

She was back in control – she’d toweled off the sweat, washed her face, and brushed her damp hair into a semblance of its normal well-groomed appearance – but she had that ‘well-fucked’ grin on her face.

“Thanks, honey. You’ll never know how much I really NEEDED that.”

“My pleasure, as always.”

She took a long slow drink then, almost hesitatingly, asked “Uh, honey, will you stay over tonight? I could really use a cuddle.”

Not exactly a pleading look on her face, but it was certainly more serious than it had been only a few minutes before.

And, although I’m just a guy, now I’m in a serious committed relationship, I’m beginning to learn to pick up on the unspoken signals that women use to communicate.

Yeah, beginning is probably overstating my ability. But even I couldn’t miss this message.

“Surely. If today was that bad, would it help to talk about it?”

Libby frowned.

She didn’t speak for a moment or two; I guessed she was deliberating before opening up.

She sighed, “It wasn’t actually work that was so bad; it was the totally lousy start to the day when I watched the TV news while I was dressing. Another murdering shitbag just walked free after strangling his girlfriend, claiming it was just consensual rough sex and it was an unfortunate accident. His weasel attorney totally denigrated the victim’s character, claiming she made him play rough; made me almost ashamed to be a lawyer. This trend for choking is becoming a fucking epidemic of abuse. Fifty Shades of Grey has a whole lot to answer for.”

(Uh oh. From her language, yes it WAS that bad a day.)

I’ve heard of the ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ trilogy – who hasn’t? – worldwide sales exceed one hundred million copies of the books, and the movies were a box office hit – and knew the premise of a young but twisted billionaire who pursues an increasingly abusive relationship with a beautiful but naïve college graduate. But ... it seemed to have too many similarities with the way Laura had been treated, and I had no intention of actually reading or watching it myself.

“They showed a few photos of the girl. Nineteen years of age, her whole life ahead of her. Such a waste! Young, idealistic, her friends and family said she made the world a better place, a daughter and sister to be proud of. She made a bad choice of boyfriend, wanted to please him, and the fucking piece of shit killed her. Every time I see a mother weeping for the loss of her child, I think how I’d feel if it was Toni or Tom. Me, I’d be planning on getting him all to myself in some remote cabin and seeing how long I could make it for him to die in agony. You know me, I have huge concerns about the unfairness of the death penalty, but in cases like this ... lethal injection is WAY too good for them. Force feeding them their penis and testicles before slowly strangling them with their own intestines would be a more just retribution, but it’s way too easy on them. You know the legend of Prometheus?”