Chapter 8

Making love to Abby was unlike being with any women I had ever known. Once she decided that she was free to decide for herself, she embraced sex with all the joy she had brought to her life prior to the troubles. We kissed for the longest time, hugging together like our lives depended on it. Abby blossomed like a rose as she discovered the many ways her body could bring her joy.

When we moved on from kissing, I turned her over and pulled her body into a sixty-nine. Abby was shocked to discover that not only did people do something that wild, but to her astonishment, she loved it.

Once she came several times, it occurred to her that Mr. Johnson was fully erect, leaking like a sieve, and conveniently nearby. Her first attempt at giving oral sex was a resounding success. Mr. Johnson flashed the two-minute warning, and I told her of my impending eruption in plenty of time for Abby to pull off, but she clamped down instead, sucking even harder, and speeding up the coordinated use of her hands and mouth, causing me to go off like a Saturn Rocket.

With my spend all over us both, I suggested we call a short hiatus and shower off before it went sticky and dried on our bodies. Abby decided to lick me clean instead. It took quite some time for her to find and remove all traces of my ejaculation, but she stayed with it until she was satisfied that she did her job. Eventually we showered anyway, since I wasn’t in the mood to lick her off. That gave us time to talk between bouts of sex.

“Daniel used to shove his thing in my mouth, but he never gave me time to figure out what to do and how to do it,” she said. “He was always all about himself. He never considered that I was there. For all he cared, I was just a receptacle for his use.”

Abby looked at our reflection in the bathroom mirror. We were hugging like teenagers, but she had her hand on Mr. Johnson, slowly stroking me up and down, while I ran my hands over her flanks, enjoying the soft skin and wonderful sensations. “Daniel would be so shocked if he saw me acting this way,” she giggled like a happy child.

When we were clean, dry, and once more on the big bed, Abby pulled me down with her, saying, “It’s time, Mark. You’ve been wonderful, supportive and patient. But I want you. I want you inside me and I want to know what it feels like to make love with someone who loves me...”

The moment that Mark had virtually lived for had finally arrived, and I slid home inside Abby’s wet, hot cavern. She twitched twice as Mr. Johnson made first contact. The amount of pressure I put against our contact was minima because I feared that she might develop cold feet at the last second.

Instead of cold feet, Abby surged up off the mattress hitting up against my pelvis, forcing me as deep as I could go without repositioning her for better effect. Abby kept pumping her pelvis up to match my down strokes and we set up a pretty nice routine. When she came that first time with a penis inside her, it was epic.

“Ahhhh ... uhhhhh ... ooooo ... ohohohohohooo ... what are you doing to me ... Oh, don’t tell me ... I don’t care ... just keep doing whatever it is...” Abby was lost in the alternate world of ecstasy. Her heart was beating hard enough to drive a hole right through her ribcage, but the tremors and earthquakes kept coming. Trapped inside Abby was a fully sexualized, women who embraced her inner sex bomb like a wino embraces a liquor store during an urban riot.

For two hours I led her through the maze of her body’s sexuality. Abby discovered that she absolutely loved her “G” spot as soon as her first “G” spot orgasm overwhelmed her completely. The volume of her appreciation was capable of deafening a concert hall full of people. Abby couldn’t imagine living in a world where her every nerve ending conspired to take her higher and higher, to places she’d never even read about.

Eventually she ran out of steam and I started to suffer with back spasms from the frantic pace of our intercourse. Once Abby discovered that the male penis was designed to give pleasure instead of pain, she grabbed on and ran with the experience.

The quite that followed the storm of Abby’s introduction to her inner woman was almost too loud, and we tried to talk between gasps to fill the void. “You... (gasp) ... should have... (gasp) ... warned... (gasp) ... me...” she huffed and puffed but managed to get a full sentence out.

“You... (gasp) ... wouldn’t have... (gasp) ... believed me ... it... (gasp) ... would have been... (gasp) ... impossible ... to ... describe... (gasp) ... what you just felt... (gasp)...” I huffed right back.

After ten, of fifteen minutes of struggling to breathe again we both recovered enough to cling together and collapse into a deep, untroubled, sleep. However, the bed was disgusting and we ended up having to get up and move to the sofa bed. In the morning we staggered into the shower, made gentle love under the water and introduced Abby to the advantages of stand up sex. Once I got into the best position for entry, she found the sensation quite different than the missionary position. By the time I filled her to overflowing, we had perfected the art of sex while standing in the shower.

The snow was mercifully gone when I’d gotten up to use the bathroom in the early morning hours. The roads visible from the hotel window appeared clear and traffic – what little there was of it – was moving steadily. No matter how long I tried to drag it out, it was time to go visit Mark’s place and deal with closing up his life. I crawled in beside Abby and enjoyed the last few hours of quiet before the real work started. It was always stressful when taking over the life of someone that died giving me their body. Each time I hoped it would be easier than the last, but that never happened for me.

From his memories I knew who he worked for and called to inform Human Resources of his/my intention to resign immediately. That freed me from having to deal with coworkers, clients, and the detritus left over from two years of gainful employment. Abby packed our things while I talked to HR.