Chapter 7

Bliss. Heaven. Warmth. Comfort beyond comfort.

God, what a way to wake up, with my nose almost touching Samantha's neck, inhaling the scents of soap and her skin, my arm draped loosely over side, her breast nestled in my palm, and my morning wood snug in the grasp of her gluteal cleft. It felt like she wasn't asleep, so I whispered against the back of her ear, "Are you awake?"

"Mmmm-hmmm," she murmured, pressing back against me.

I tightened my arm into a hug and kissed her shoulder blade. My hips drew back of their own accord, pulling my cock free from its resting place, then moved forward again, sliding my dick through the little triangle at the top of her legs. To my surprise, it passed smoothly through her pussy lips and poked out the front. Samantha rubbed her thumb over my glans. "Mmmm," she said. "Someone's oozing already this morning."

I slid my cock back a little, and Samantha pressed it up with her thumb. When I moved forward again, I slipped slowly and gently into her. She rocked her hips and wiggled a bit, and I was all the way in. God, what a way to wake up.

I couldn't have stroked hard and fast if I'd wanted to. That position just didn't allow for it, and I was still half asleep to boot. There was no need to rush. I withdrew slowly, slowly, then returned to the wetness and heat. Again. And a third time. I drifted into a dreamlike state, neither awake nor asleep, but gliding along a warm current between two dimensions, sleep below me and wakefulness above. Samantha must have been sharing that space with me; she didn't speak or even sigh, synchronizing her hips with mine, from time to time grasping my penis with her vaginal walls.

That was all of existence for indeterminate time. I didn't have any idea when we started, and we didn't stop until, by mutual consent, Samantha pushed her bottom down as I lifted my hips up and we both flowed into one another. No bang, no explosion, no fireworks—just an all-consuming glow of love and letting go that, for a few moments, transformed the world into heaven.

As the glow dimmed and my senses returned to normal, becoming aware of a car accelerating on the street in front of the house and a crow announcing himself from the top of a tree in the back yard, I said, "Holy cow. What a way to wake up. I could do this a lot."

Samantha groaned and moved an arm to the top of the blanket. "It sure is," she said. "This is as new to me as it is to you. I've never had a morning like this before."

I could have lain like that all day, I think, except that my bladder was bellowing at me and it was time to get moving anyway. "I gotta go," I said.

"Me too," Samantha said.

Simultaneously, we tossed the covers back on our sides of the bed and hurried off, Samantha to the en suite in her bedroom and I to the main bathroom down the hall.

In the kitchen—both of us still nude by no spoken agreement—I set up the coffee pot while Samantha put on an apron and started some bacon sizzling.

After we'd finished our eggs and bacon and English muffins, Samantha took our plates to the sink while I sipped from my second cup of coffee. Humming a melody while she worked, she washed the plates and moved them to the dish drainer. Then she rested her forearms on the edge of the sink, spread her legs to a bit more than shoulder width, and started swinging her hips from side to side in time to her humming. Every third measure or so, she shifted her weight heavily to her left foot three times—ump, beat, ump, beat, ump—making her butt jiggle and her separated labia vibrate. Hum, hum, hum. Ump, beat, ump, beat, ump. Hum, hum, hum. Ump, beat, ump, beat, ump. Hum, hum, hum. Ump, beat, ump, beat, ump.

Ump, beat, ump, beat, ump. Ump, beat, ump, beat, ump. Ump, beat, ump, beat, ump.

Ump, ump, ump. Ump, ump, ump.

I couldn't look away, and my cock started rising entirely of its own accord. In less than a minute, I wasn't just hard: I was rigid. What the fuck, I said to myself, what are you doing getting hard just sitting here? You had sex only an hour ago.

Almost in a trance, I got up from my seat and started walking toward Samantha, unconsciously rocking my hips in time with her beat, my oak hard-on bobbing and dipping in front of me. I put my hands on her waist and slipped the head of my cock just inside her wet and vibrating pussy lips. Samantha looked over her shoulder at me and growled, "Missing me already?" giving her hips an extra wiggle. I snapped my hips forward and up, driving myself into her with enough force to lift her to her toes.

"Unh," Samantha said.

I withdrew and then slammed forward again. Buried as deeply into Samantha as I could be, I held motionless for a few seconds, then withdrew and slammed forward. Withdrew and slammed forward.

Unh, beat, unh, beat, unh.

Before long, I picked up my pace, slamming into Samantha with every stroke. My balls swung back and forth, cool in the open air, and I felt a tremendous sense of unconstrained freedom. I looked out the window over the sink and saw not the cultivated landscaping of our back yard but a forest, wild and untamed. Samantha was no longer leaning over the kitchen sink; she had her arms braced on the moss-covered bark of a fallen tree trunk. Something growled; it was me, and Samantha howled in response. I slammed forward, and she slammed back. I grabbed Samantha's hair with one hand and a breast with the other and held her to me as I jackhammered my hips like a beast. This was not ethereal love-making between freshly washed sheets. This was fucking, raw and wild and primitive. Samantha growled, and I howled in response.

Unh, unh, unh.

I pistoned in one more time and we both howled as I crushed her against me and pulsed my wetness into hers. And then we collapsed into a sweaty, gasping tangle on the kitchen floor. Presently, Samantha heaved a great sigh. "What was that?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said. "I don't have the foggiest idea. I just saw you standing there at the sink, moving your hips back and forth, and I couldn't resist."

"Well, yeah," Samantha said. "I was doing what I was doing with the specific intent of enticing you. But what happened wasn't anywhere near what I expected. It was nothing I could have expected. Nothing like that's ever happened to me before."

I got myself disentangled enough to give Samantha a soft kiss. "Me neither," I said, laughing.

"I'm the one who's supposed to be helping you lose your virginity and learn a few things about sex. I'm beginning to get the feeling that you're teaching me."

"I think we're learning together," I said, rising shakily to my feet. I offered Samantha my hands to help her up.

She stood and brushed at her bottom as if dusting herself off. "You know," she said, "I'll swear I heard animals howling."

I couldn't help but smile when she said that. "Well, then, what let's do next?" I said, unconsciously reaching down to separate my sticky genitals.

Samantha glanced down at my hand. "I'd say that a shower is in order," she said, with something of an eew look on her face.

We were both way too fucked out right then for a shower to include any serious hanky-panky, but the use of body wash transformed mere washing into a loving and sensual experience. I'd never used body wash before, but it didn't take me long to appreciate its downright slipperiness. Soap is slippery, sure, but its texture kind of has holes in it—areas where the soap is thin and your hand drags over wet flesh. Body wash feels kind of oily, and it clings so that your hands slide smoothly wherever they touch. I particularly enjoyed running my slippery finger between Samantha's butt cheeks and feeling her jump a little every time it slid over her asshole.

"And now," Samantha said, as we were toweling ourselves and each other off, "I want to go to a movie."

It had been ages since I went to a movie matinee—but why not, I thought. Part of the fun of being with Samantha was doing things I (or we) wouldn't ordinarily do. We got out the newspaper—which still worked better for finding movies than the Internet—to see what was playing. We agreed without question that we didn't want to see anything heavy. No serious drama, nothing with a message, nothing with dark undertones. We wanted something light, entertaining, and maybe ever a little bit silly. Without being too stupid.

After a few minutes, we settled on Ruby Sparks, a story about a young author whose female protagonist comes to life and whose characteristics he can change just by writing—or rewriting—them. Not exactly a new theme, no message, no darkness, and probably a little bit silly: just what we were looking for.

I got back into my usual summer wear of shorts, a tee-shirt, and sandals. Samantha surprised me by presenting herself wearing a short faded denim skirt and a pale yellow blouse. This was the first time I'd seen her in anything other than pants all week. And it looked good on her. Very good.

Having surrendered her ticket stub at the door to the cineplex, Samantha made a bee-line for the refreshment counter and bought a huge bag of buttered popcorn and two Cokes. "Are you hungry?" I asked.

"Not particularly," she said, picking up a couple of oily kernels and popping them into her mouth. "We're not here just to see a movie. We're here for the movie experience, and the movie experience calls for popcorn. It has to smell right, you know?" Samantha handed me a Coke.

I didn't know, but I didn't say anything. We were in for the movie experience together. When we walked into the screening room, Samantha took me by the hand and led me up the steps and to the very back row of seats, right against the wall.

"Why the heck do you want to sit so far back?" I asked. "The place is virtually empty. We can have any seat we want."

"Shh," Samantha said. "You'll see. Just sit down."

I sat. When the lights went down and the ads and previews started, there were maybe a dozen other couples scattered around, with lots of space between them. It looked like Thursday afternoon wasn't a very big day for the movie theaters. Or Ruby Sparks was a real dog. Samantha pushed up the arm between our seats, and we snuggled in with our shoulders together. Samantha tipped the top of the popcorn bag toward me. "Have some," she said.

About the time the movie got the story established, we'd had our fill of popcorn. Samantha rolled down the top of the bag and put it on the seat next to her. We did our best to clean our fingers with napkins that disintegrated almost with a touch, and then Samantha ran her arm through mine and wiggled in close. "Give me a kiss," she whispered, with a waft of popcorn-breath. I complied.

"Kiss me," she said again a few minutes later. I again complied. "No," she said, giving my captive arm a tug. "Put some feeling into it. Put your arm around my shoulders."

"You want to make out in the movie theater?" I said, dumbfounded, considering that we had a whole house to romp in.

"It's part of the experience!" she hissed. "Don't hassle me."

God forbid I should hassle Samantha. I put my arm around her shoulders and leaned into kissing her with a purpose. "Much better," she said, with her open lips pressed to mine.

After a few minutes of intensive kissing, I felt Samantha's hand start rubbing at my crotch. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm really getting into making out at the movies," she said. "You're supposed to try to feel me up now."

I mentally rolled my eyes and wrapped my free hand around her left breast. Her hand came up immediately to swat mine away. "Ah, ah, ah," she said. "Naughty, naughty."

"What the heck?" I said. "You told me to feel you up."

"Nope. I said you're supposed to try to feel me up. Now, try again."

So I tried again, slow-walking my fingers up her chest and rubbing around as if touching her breast was the last thing on my mind—and then I slipped my hand over it and squeezed gently.

Samantha grabbed my wrist and held my hand against her breast briefly, then pulled it down. "I said no," she said, mixing some yes in with the no.

We went back to kissing, and she went back to rubbing my crotch.

"Hey," I said, "how come you can rub my crotch but I can't rub your boob?"

"Pfft," she said. "The rules for girls are different. I thought you'd have learned that by now."

"Well, actually," I said, "this is the first time a girl's rubbed my crotch while we were watching a movie." Then, without preamble, I gave her left breast a squeeze. She slapped my hand away.

"That was a nice try," she said. "You're making progress. Don't give up."

I kissed her harder and longer, then lightened up and teased her lips with mine; opened my mouth a little and licked at her lips for invitation. After we'd slid our tongues around for a couple of minutes, I kissed along her jawbone and up the side of her neck. When I took her earlobe between my lips, I also moved my hand surreptitiously up her blouse and laid it gently over her breast. "Mmmm," she mumbled. "That feels soooo good." I gave her breast a squeeze and went back to kissing her mouth.

In the midst of the kissing, I felt Samantha start fiddling with the zipper on my shorts. After a few fumbles, she got the tab straightened out and pulled it down. Her fingers went into my open fly and fished around for my cock. I kept on kissing her and caressing her breast. Then she started pulling my hard-on out of my boxers.

"Samantha!" I shouted in a whisper. "What in the world are you doing?"

"I'm getting your cock out," she said, as if hauling my cock out of my pants in a movie were an every day event.

I took my hand off her breast and grabbed her wrist. "You can't do that here in public. People can see us. You're going to get us in a heap of trouble."

"Sure, I can do it," she said, prying my grip off her wrist. "Nobody can see us. There isn't anybody behind us. Look around. There isn't anybody anywhere near us, and they're all watching the movie or taking care of their own business anyway. Look at that couple over there near the wall."

That couple did seem to be pretty involved with one another. As I watched, one head disappeared below the back of the seat.

"Oh," I said, as Samantha pulled my prick into the open air.

Her head went below the back of the seat and her lips slipped over my cock. My gasp disappeared in the Dolby Surround-Sound. When as much of my cock as would fit was in Samantha's mouth, she started nursing on it with little schluck, schluck sounds. After a few sucks, she ran her tongue around and around the glans. Schluck, schluck. I took my hand off of Samantha's breast and put it on the back of her head, but there was no way I was going to be able to force myself any deeper. She had a grip on my shaft so that her head couldn't move down any farther. She was in control here, one hundred percent.

Every time her tongue slithered around the head of my cock it got a little more sensitive. Just about the time the sensation was moving from pleasure to pain, she went back to sucking. "Gawd, Samantha," I groaned, "you're killing me here."

Schlrk. "Yeah," she said, pulling her head back, "killing you with pleasure. Now hush and enjoy."

I gently stroked the back of Samantha's head while she carried on with her homicidal mission. I would have loved to keep massaging her breast or touch her somewhere, but the way she was bent over kept all her good parts out of my reach. I faced the screen innocently, whether or not I was aware of anything that was happening on it.

I wallowed and reveled in exquisite pain. As I approached climax, the head of my prick began to heat with the same kind of sensitivity it had just after a climax—but this wasn't getting better; it was getting worse with every revolution of Samantha's tongue. Not that I would have stopped it if I could. I was all but paralyzed, hanging right on the ragged edge of coming. The rush of relief seemed only a breath away, but agonizingly restrained by a sweet ache.

I could have come this second, that second, or the next, but in the one in which inexorable pressure overcame tenuous restraint arrived unannounced and explosively. Samantha continued to run her tongue around my glans and suck me schluck schluck schluck even as I fired jets of jizz down her throat. I roared my release and flopped in my seat like a landed fish, grounded only by the pressure of Samantha's head in my lap.

When my vision and hearing returned, I glanced anxiously around the theater and was relieved to see that the other patrons were still facing forward. I ran a finger across Samantha's cheek. "Enough, already," I said.

She sat up. "Did you enjoy that?"

"Enjoyment misses the mark by miles," I said. "I think exquisite would be a better word. Thank you."

Samantha giggled and clutched my arm close. "I've always wanted to do that," she said.