Chapter 5

Wednesday afternoon, Erin's off day, they played basketball in the park and had a picnic lunch. She had played basketball in college, as had he, and they were equally matched. One of the games ended up being so physical Jack ended up with a nice erection. Noticing the bulge at the front of his denim shorts, she proceeded to tease him mercilessly by deliberately bumping her butt into him. He ended up losing the game by ten points.

Reading to him on Sunday night had seemed to help her. She had been relaxed with him this past week, initiating several kisses that had sent sensational currents flowing through his cock, and the troubled look in her eyes somewhat diminished.

Saturday evening, after they attended a choral musical at his old high school, he took her out to dinner at one of the swankier places in town. Located on the top floor of an old bank building, set up with a nineteen forties theme, The River Mill had been around for twenty years. Their steaks were considered by some to be the best in town, and they were one of the top five restaurants in the state.

They were seated at an intimate corner table for two. Two silver candle holders sat in the center of the white table cloth. With Big Band music playing softly in the back ground, they discussed their day and then reached a moment of companionable silence.

Jack only tasted part of his steak, as he watched Erin enjoying her Hawaiian Chicken. She was wearing a silk black sleeveless dress that showed off her perfect wide shoulders and the curves of her breasts. When she walked, the full-skirt of the dress brushed against the black silk stockings covering her gorgeous round calves. He had been aching for her all day, and being with her was adding to the intensity of his desire.

He watched with interest as she pushed her plate aside and folded her arms on the table. She smiled at him. The flames from the candles danced in her dark eyes, and he imagined they were reflections of the depth of her passion.

"How about having a naughty improvisation with me?" she softly asked. "You start it off and I'll respond to whatever you say."

"Let me think a minute." The minute was however long it took him to eat the last four bites of his steak. He leaned forward, propping his chin in his right hand. "I can feel the warmness of you; smell your sweetness as you lower yourself onto my face. Hungry for you, I delve into you with my tongue. Moaning, you lean back as my hands slide under your thighs, pulling you down further, to lap up and down your folds before placing my mouth over your clit to suck.

"Slowly sucking and releasing you, I can feel your peak already beginning to build. Taking my hand from under you, I open my lips wide over your opening. I plunge inside you, curling and flicking my tongue, tasting the difference in your sexual climate as more and more of your nectar is unleashed into my mouth and onto my face."

She took a swallow of her tea. "Breathing heavily, fondling my nipples, I begin to ride your tongue, feeling myself dripping. On the verge of climax, I get spread myself across your body and take your throbbing shaft into my hands and swirl my tongue around your head, salty with pre-cum."

"I moan and momentarily forget what I'm doing as you take me fully into your mouth. Then, I begin to lick and suck you, loving the feel of you squirming with excitement on my face."

"Savoring your pulsating cock, my thoughts are gone as I devour you, sucking and stroking."

Jack shifted in his seat. His cock was putting in its two cents and was straining against his trousers. "I gasp and stop pleasing you in order to appreciate the sensations you're giving me."

"I massage your tight balls in my hand. You are so close to cumming."

"You pull your mouth off me, letting me catch my breath, and I clasp your clit between my lips, swirling my tongue around, as you gasp and rock against my face."

"Sweet sensations course through my body, until I tremble and cry out as orgasm pulls me into its grip, leaving me barely able to pull away, to scoot down your body, to impale myself on your rigid manhood."

Jack gasped.

"You okay?" she grinned.

He nodded. "Just a little hard is all. You may have to carry me out of here."

She laughed. "Want to stop?"

He shook his head. "Gasping and writhing beneath you, your hot wetness enveloping me, I lift my hips as you begin to slowly rise and fall, sliding up and down my length."

"I love to feel you inside me, filling me, stretching me to the limit, as I grind against you harder, pounding against you in earnest as the tension in my body builds again, feeling you swelling, growing hotter inside me, feeling the rippling heat in my belly that means I'm close."

"Oh, Lord." He licked his lips. "Your fingers rubbing your clit, gasping, moaning, I feel you tighten; then my hot gush explodes inside you, and you cum in spasms that rock us both."

"I thought you didn't want to stop." She grinned.

He stuck his tongue out at her. "I'm in danger of making a sticky mess."

"Really?" She reached across and placed her hand on his tea glass. "Want me to help out?"

"No!" He snatched up the glass, and in the next instant it slipped out of his fingers. The cold liquid drenched the front of his trousers and he ejaculated.

Jack smiled at the memory the next evening, as he prepared for the phone call with her. Erin had immediately begun laughing, and after getting over his shock, he joined her. They spent the rest of the evening on her light gray cloth love seat; watching an old black and white gangster movie and making out, while his pants dried in her dryer, located in a closet next to her kitchen.

She lived in a quiet neighborhood in a three-room apartment above a two-door garage. The elderly couple who owned the house had given her the extra parking space in the garage, and there was a staircase inside that went up to her place. She had wood floors other than in the bedroom, where there was blue gray carpet. Her tastes were simple, leaning toward things that reminded him of his grandmother's house, and Jack felt at home the first time he stepped inside the door.

When she answered the phone he could picture her sitting on the antique iron bed that had belonged to her grandmother. Her pillow would be behind her back, her journal opened to the page where her second week of poetry began.