Chapter 20

As slowly as things had progressed to that point, once she touched him in an overtly sexual way, things just kind of went wild. Kris didn't know what to do first. He wanted to stand there like this forever, with her hot mouth sucking at him. But he remembered those lush pussy lips and his tongue ached to taste them. At the same time, there was another hot, slick place his prick wanted to be. His balls wanted his prick to be there, too, rather than deliver their nectar to her throat.

Almost frantically, he gripped her head and transmitted through his fingers that he wanted her mouth off of him. She pulled back, sucking all the way, reluctant to give him up, but as soon as she saw what he intended, she rolled to her knees and let him lie down. Then, with practiced ease, she arched a knee over him and settled her pussy on his mouth, while she took him in hers again.

Kris feasted, loving her taste and loving the smooth feel of her freshly shaven pudendum. His hands gripped her buttocks, moving from place to place and leaving momentary white imprints of his fingers where her flesh was still dark from his spanking. He realized she wasn't trying to get him to cum. She was just loving his penis with her mouth, sucking and nibbling and licking, playing with it, keeping it hard as stone. He realized the room was full of sound now, both her high pitched hums and squeaks and his own lower Campbell Soup kind of happy humming. He found her clit and lapped and pushed at it with his lips, wishing he could see it so he could suck at it properly.

The heat left his prick and he felt her hand stroking it slowly ... too slowly to be trying to make him cum ... just exploring it and feeling it.

Then, without warning again, she rolled off of him, to lay splayed open again like she had been before.

He rolled up onto his side. Her invitation was unmistakable.

How he got there he would never remember, but he suddenly found himself gripping his cock, the tip nosed securely between the lips he had just been kissing. His hips were tensed to lunge forward and his brain screamed at him to sheathe himself in her.

But another part of his brain reminded him that slow had been excruciatingly delightful so far. He pressed gently and she moaned. He lifted his eyes, to find her staring at him again, with something in her eyes that urged him on, but also showed appreciation for his gentleness.

It took him thirty seconds until he felt the skin at the base of his prick press wetly against her spread labia.

"Ohhhh yes," she whispered.

It felt so good to be in her that he simply left himself there, buried, and ground against her, trying to push even deeper. Her hands helped him, her nails digging deep into the flesh of his buttocks.

It was slow like that for maybe a minute and then, like magic, he was pulling and thrusting, as her hips found the opposite rhythm, falling away as he withdrew and leaping up to accept his thrust. He knew within another minute that he couldn't keep this up. He was burning energy at a prodigious rate, pounding into her urgently now, all thought of gentleness gone. She dragged in a deep breath, the air rasping in her throat, and her hips quivered somehow as her throat began letting that air out in a whine that got higher and higher. He knew suddenly that she was cumming and, with a groan of relief, he buried himself in her and rubbed, as her hips bucked at him in rapid short thrusts that moved her pussy along his shaft - only an inch, perhaps - rubbing her clit at the same time.

The whine evolved into a high pitched groan that sounded like he was killing her, but he knew it was a good sound. As she reached the pinnacle of her groan and it transformed into gasping grunts that went in time with her hips, his own release was suddenly upon him. He didn't have to do a thing. She was doing all the work now, even though she was pinned beneath him.

He couldn't remember ejaculating into a woman either, but in the seconds it took for his prick to bulge and spit his seed into her, he knew it had never been like this. This couldn't possibly be forgotten, no matter what the trauma. This was a thing he felt deep in his soul. He understood perfectly the concept of the flesh of two, becoming one.

He realized he was crying, gasping and sobbing at the same time with the joy he was feeling. Her hands left his buttocks and came to capture his face, pulling. As the final spurts of his essence left his body to enter hers and her hips jerked less frequently, their kiss was a sloppy, panting thing, more of a rubbing of lips over each other's faces as they gasped for air. It was almost more intimate than what they'd just done, as if they were trying to give each other part of their lips, exchanging skin as they merged into one being.

Kris woke as the sun streamed through the window. He stretched, and while enjoying that, the memory of the previous night flooded his mind. He sat up, as if there were overstressed springs in his abdomen.

He was naked ... and he was alone. He got up and found that his clothes had been picked up and draped over the back of a chair.

Getting dressed, he ventured out to find Lou Anne. He didn't know what it meant that he'd awakened alone.

He found her in the kitchen, sitting and listening as Ambrose read to her from a storybook and tried to eat breakfast at the same time. She looked up at him as he stuck his head hesitantly in the doorway, blew him a quick kiss and then turned back to her son. He felt a wave of relief and was astonished at how important that quick little kiss had been to him.

Ambrose looked up too. "Hi Kris!" he said brightly. "You must have been really tired. You fell asleep at our house."

"He WAS very tired," said Lou Anne. "I had to put him to bed just like I have to put you to bed sometimes."

Ambrose looked amazed. "You CARRIED him?"

Lou Anne laughed and that sound was delightful to his ears. He couldn't remember the last time a woman's laugh had made him feel so complete.

"No, silly," she said. "But I had to make him go to sleep. He didn't want to, just like YOU don't want to go to sleep sometimes."

"Did you read him a story?" asked the little boy.

"Something like that," said Lou Anne, rising. "You keep reading while I get poor tired Kris something to eat, OK?"

"OK!" said the boy. He turned to Kris again. "You want to listen too?"

"I'd like nothing better," said Kris, sitting down.

Lulu/

Lou Anne clocked in and put on her apron. She saw that Jessica was already seated. She often came in before her hospital shift, for what was, to her, breakfast. She went to Jessica's table first, with a fresh pot of coffee. Jessica watched her approach.

"What happened?" she asked, her eyebrows rising.

"What do you mean?" asked the waitress.

"You look different."

"I do?" Lou Anne looked down at her uniform, craning to look behind her.

"You look more relaxed or something," said Jess.

"Good day off, I guess," said Lou Anne, pouring a little fresh coffee into Jessica's cup.

"No, it's more than that. Come on ... what happened?"

"Why do you insist something happened?" asked Lou Anne. "I had a day off. I spent some time with Ambrose. It was wonderful."

"Hey Lulu!" called out Hank. "Kris was in here earlier. He said to tell you he's all motivated to write and he won't be in after work because he's going home to keep writing."

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For Want of a Memory

Lubrican

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