Snowstorm

Snowstorm
Part Twelve

"Alan," I said, swallowing and taking a deep breath, "I don't want our time to end...not yet..." I quickly went on, before he could stop me. I could tell by his expression that he was mere seconds away from doing so. I raised a finger to his lips, feeling his breath upon my skin and went on, softly, "What we've all ready done we can't undo. Maybe it's stupid of me, but I need this, Alan... I need you. I know it's foolish of me to even entertain the thought of having...what we've...had...for any great length of time, but.... I'm not ready, yet, to face...well...to face what I have to face once...once I have to leave here..."

I had lowered my hand and his own, which had stilled within the one of mine he'd been holding. For a series of long, pregnant moments, we stared at each other. I was afraid to look away, afraid to break the sudden spell we'd weaved around each other. I felt as if everything from the night before was happening all over again. I knew that his recent phone call from Rima had shaken him and he'd felt guilt for what he'd done. Hell, I felt guilt for what I wanted from him.

It was as if my mind and my body were split down the center. One part of me was crying out to grab him, smother him with kisses and lose myself in the sound of his sweet soft sighs and cries of pleasure. The other half of myself was raging against what I was feeling, telling me I was nothing but a home wrecking little slut and that I deserved to suffer for my wickedness.

Was I selfish and weak? Perhaps. Perhaps I was the weakest, most selfish, home wrecking little slut that had ever lived. However, this did not cease the pounding of my heart or the raggedness of my breath as I realized by his eyes that he was having serious trouble finding a way to deny what I knew we both wanted. I had promised him only one night.

I was fully aware of breaking my promise. Or at least, attempting to. I told myself it didn't matter. Nothing really does in this world, you know? We're born, we live a bit and then we die. Hopefully not everyone will leave this world in a horrible car crash in the middle of winter on an Idaho mountain. Hopefully, if your creator is kind, you'll die safe and sound within your bed...

"What are you thinking of Beth?" he asked me, lifting his hand to run his fingers across my cheek, so lightly I barely felt them, "Hmm?"

"I'm thinking about us," I said, knowing that there really wasn't any 'us'. There never had been. It was a fluke that we'd even come together at all, really, "I'm thinking about...how once I'm gone....will it seem as though I never even existed to you?"

"Beth..." he said, and brought my hand to his mouth, holding my palm to his lips for the span of a few heartbeats. I shuddered and swiped the tip of my tongue across my suddenly parched lips. I took my hand from his and reached over, clasping his face between my hands and said; "I just don't want to be forgotten..." I was half expecting him to move his face away from me or gently put me from him, but he did neither as I leaned over and touched my mouth lightly against his own.

For a long time I didn't move. Neither of us did. We might have looked rather silly to an outside observer. I had lowered my hands once more. Two people. Sitting so close and yet hardly touching at all. I kept my eyes open. I wanted to see his every change of expression. It was subtle, what happened next, so subtle. I felt his mouth moving beneath my own, slowly, and unsure at first. He was not out to prove a point or enact any kind of revenge upon me now, at this moment. He was merely a man who was overcome by something he could not fight.

I didn't want to even try to fight it. I knew it was pointless. I knew that, even though we only had a few days...perhaps even only a few hours, together, left, that it would be useless and silly to try and deny ourselves something so simple and so sweet.

"Oh, Alan..." I murmured, once our kiss had found it's end, "I want you so much..." My words seemed to be the final utterance needed to finish casting the spell and there came a sudden cry like a wounded animal from his throat before he took my shoulders and drew me against him, nuzzling against my neck as he moved my hair out of his way.

Suddenly, I was raining kisses across his face and whispering things to him that should have caused the blood to rise to my cheeks. I was so enjoying the tenderness of his caresses, his fingers beneath the sweatshirt, playing about my hardened nipples, my breath was coming in short gasps as my eyes threatened to close, that I was taken utterly by surprise when he leaned over me and breathed into my ear a request, a request that actually did make me blush!

"Here..." he said, and guided me to the floor, one hand upon my stomach, the other pressing against my back so that I had no choice but to lean over the sofa. I hadn't been lying when I'd said I'd only had sex once before Alan... and then it had only been in the missionary position. Everything I learned about oral sex, I'd read about in glamour magazines or seen in acted out in adult movies. My friend once bought a copy of an adult movie and we watched it together. I'd left her house feeling the urge to spend some much-needed time alone in a hot, sudsy bath.

My thoughts were ripped away as he fumbled with the strings holding my borrowed pajama bottoms up. "Do you need some help?" I asked, I was feeling a bit foolish just lying here, in such an odd position. He didn't answer and soon I felt my skin being exposed to the fire-warmed air about the room.

I couldn't help jumping a bit as I felt his fingers between my thighs, coaxing them apart. It did not take much stroking of my sex on his part to get me ready. I'd all ready been aching for him. I heard myself moan and backed against his hand, wanting more and unable to voice, what, exactly, I wanted more of!

"You said that you wanted me, Beth," he said, his voice taking on a strange, faraway quality. He leaned over me and, still moving the fingers of his right hand across my blood-engorged clit, he grasped a handful of my hair near my scalp and drew my head backwards to rest upon his shoulder.

"Tell me how much." A trickle of something akin to fear slid across my heart but it was soon overshadowed by the arousal I was feeling. He wasn't hurting me, and I knew that he never would, but it was the...possibility that he could if he so wished that was such...well...such a turn on, I suppose. "A lot..." I tried and he chuckled, removing his hand from my nether regions, to grind his hips against me from behind.

"Oh, god..." I couldn't help whimpering aloud. He took a few moments to remove an article of his clothing and felt the material brushing against my thighs momentarily. When he pressed against me next I felt his hardness flush against the skin of my backside. "That's not good enough, Beth," he said, biting my earlobe and sucking on it for a moment. That caused even more dampness to seep from my core and I struggled to form thoughts into words.

"I...I...Oh, my god...I want...I want..." I know I must have sounded like a record with a major scratch, but I couldn't catch my breath enough to speak!

"What, Beth?" he said, not releasing my hair, not yet, "What is it that you want? A pillow? A cup of tea? A magazine?"

He was teasing me! I spat out, overcome with desire, "I want you to fuck me again, dammit and stop with the games!"

I received a swift answer to my outburst as he lifted me up enough to allow himself entrance inside of me. Allowing my head to fall back towards the sofa, he released my hair and grasped my hips instead, slowly guiding me in the ways to move to match the pace he was setting. He pulled me away from the sofa and pushed me down to the floor.

Having lost contact with me during the change in positioning, I gasped and urged him to hurry and once more, he was inside of me stroking his hands across my back and around to grasp my breasts, and I wondered if he could feel the beating of my heart as I groaned and cried out as our bodies moved, once more, as one.

A few moments passed in which he was moving slowly, almost too slowly. Pulling himself nearly all the out of my wetness only to slam within once more. I was nearly weeping from frustration. I backed against him hard and growled to show what I wanted. He was far from stupid. He had to know what I...

He was pounding into me hard now. So hard that I had to catch myself with my arms to keep from smashing my nose to the floor. I felt his hands tighten upon my breasts almost painfully. Though, before I could do more than writhe, his hands were lower, spanning my stomach, the soft, dampened hairs between my thighs until they reached the seat of my passion.

I was crying and pleading with him at the same time by the time I felt his attentions near my dampened sex. I trembled as he continued to jerk his hips against me while building up a fire by the purposeful movements of his hands; one upon my waist now, the other still toying with my most sensitive area. And then, abruptly, he was talking... softly, hushed... his voice husky with his own encroaching orgasm; "You are about to come, aren't you, Beth?" he was saying, and his voice was like honey or whiskey.... sweet, smooth, and so hot...

"I can feel it, you know...Come for me, Beth...Please..." I think it was the 'please' at the end that was my undoing. I felt my climax coming swiftly and I could do nothing to pause or even slow it down! "That's it...a little more, perhaps...?" I heard him ask, his voice so soft it was a wonder I heard him at all over the pounding of my heart, our mingled breathing and the sound of our bodies moving together. Yet, I did, and his words sent me into another crashing wave of bliss as I came again in a series of shudders and jerks, screaming against the floor as I felt the last of the climax washing over me.

I felt him speed up his thrusts, he filled me so well from this angle, I marveled, and I felt him stiffen, after pushing a few more times inside of me, above me and the drawn-out groan of pleasure I heard from him was something I never wished to forget. As he pulled out of me, I felt his seed trickling hot and sticky down my thighs.

Without thinking, I sat up, turned around and dipped a finger between my legs. He was sitting back, panting, out of breath and his face red. I brought my finger to my mouth and licked, slowly, while watching him. He was panting, sitting back on the floor and gave me a look of such reproach I nearly giggled; "Honesty, woman!" he cried, winded, as I removed my finger from my mouth; "I'm not a damn machine! Let me...catch my breath!"