Page 27 of 7 Miles High
“I’m no boy.”
The kiss she offers shuts down any further discussion of boy or man. It’s all about sensation now. Touch and taste. We move to the bed and I begin to remove her unnecessary clothes. On her they’re like gilding the lily.
First the blouse goes, followed by my own top, which gets tossed to the floor. Before the bra comes off I bring her against my skin. My deep sigh says it all. She reaches around and unhooks the bra. It drops to our feet.
“Baby. You’re so beautiful.”
Fingers fly, as we rid ourselves of the rest of the offending garments. Within seconds we’re standing naked. My dick is having a one-sided conversation with her pussy and face and boobs and everything in between.
“Let’s get in bed.”
We slide between the sheets and come together. I begin with a kiss. She returns it with all that she has to give. The lovemaking starts quietly. That doesn’t last long. We’re too turned on. Too fucking ready for each other. Let me make you come, baby. I throw back the bedding and get between her silky legs. There’s no resistance, only unspoken agreement with the idea.
“Lick me,” she says in low and sultry tones.
“Open up. Let me taste that sweet pussy.”
She spreads her legs and I show her how much I love to eat her. It’s like going to the finest restaurant that serves a one of a kind dish that every man craves. But only I have the keys to get inside.
I take my time with the pleasure, building her desire slowly. Natalie wears her passion on her face and through the sounds that come from her. I’ve gotten used to the soundtrack. It didn’t take long to appreciate the overture, the voice over, the sound effects. Her body is the instrument.
“Parker. Ohhhhh,” she whispers.
That’s where I change from a light touch to something firmer. I travel from bottom to top, between her lips. Coming to her clit I wiggle my tongue and then tap, tap, tap it against her.
“Oh yeah! That’s good!”
I can always tell when she’s getting close to coming. Her voice rises along with the passion. I keep her on the edge of reason, pulling back when I sense it could be about to happen. Prolonging the joy. Her breathing has quickened and her fingers thread in my hair and hold on in anticipation of the ride. Then legs stiffen and hips rise. Here it is.
Some wild sound escapes her. Not actually words, but not just unidentifiable moans either. It’s Natalie-speak. I bring her all the way home, easing up at the end to make the height of the orgasm bearable. I taste the cum and it sends me to another world. My dick is hard as steel. She comes up on her elbows and locks riveted eyes on mine. I’ve got to fuck her. Jungle fuck her.
* * *
Afterwards we sit talking. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman look so freaking sexy. Natalie in my white dress shirt and nothing else, her hair in a high ponytail. She’s so fuckable. I’ve obviously lost it, because we just finished a marathon sex session. Three hours’ worth.
She called me Stamina Man. My shoulder is screaming but I’m not about to tell her because I’d lose my title. She might not want to do the whole me holding her up fuck anymore. Just to save me the pain. I’m not about to sacrifice that position for a fucking non injury.
As I prepare our sandwiches she talks on the phone. There have been at least three bursts since she started talking to Jenna. Girls have this crazy thing about screaming to punctuate their happiness. Always found it annoying. Until her. Funny how someone can make the world turn.
“I don’t know. Let me ask,” Natalie says. She holds her cell away from her mouth and looks at me.
“What’s the name of the film?”
It takes me a beat to remember. That’s something I rarely give a shit about.
“I think it’sMark’s Monday. Yeah, that’s right.”
“It’sMark’s Monday,” she says happily into the phone.
After a moment she pauses again.
“Is Finn playing Mark?”
“Yeah. But that’s about all I know. Didn’t read the script. I’m not the coordinator.”
When Natalie repeats my comments there’s a lot of discussion.How can he not read the script? Etcetera, etcetera.
Piling the various Italian meats on top of the mayonnaise spread, I feel a sense of satisfaction. This may be the best-looking thing I’ve ever offered a guest. All we need are a few pickles. As I look through the refrigerator another question comes my way.
“What time should she be here?” Natalie calls.
“I’ve got an eight o’clock call for hair and makeup. Tell her we’re leaving here at six thirty. Sharp.”
Natalie relays the message with the right emphasis on “sharp”. She says her goodbyes and disconnects just in time for me to serve her plate.
“Let’s have a nice Cabernet with our sandwiches,” I chuckle.
“Baby, you’re full of good ideas.” She winks.
