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I writhed beneath him as his lips and then his tongue began exploring my open center, and he reacted by intensifying his assault. I cried out as he touched just the right places. I wasn’t sure if I was jealous or grateful for the women who must have taught him the skills he had learned since we were two fumbling teenagers. I was hungry for him, hungry for more of him, but he denied my pleas for him to stop tormenting me and fuck me instead.
“No. Be a good girl,” he told me, his voice reverberating across my folds as he lapped up the flood he was creating within. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him into me as he teased me without mercy until I was giving in to him, exploding in a ripple of orgasms that seemed endless until I had nothing left to give. Jon cleaned every drop of my climax before moving upward to kiss me, the taste of my pussy still on his lips.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” I told him, no doubt looking ridiculous with my legs still over his shoulders, my bottom half fully exposed and ravaged by his mouth.
“Well, I could stand to eat…again,” he said playfully.
He pulled away from me and helped me up, watching with a smile as I smoothed down my dress. We made dinner and watched a bit of TV before falling into bed and pursuing round three of our reacquaintance. It was good to be home.
15
Rain
It felt like a new day in more ways than just the physical sense as I woke up the following morning. Jon had woken up earlier and told me he had to go. The cats would need to be fed, and he was expecting a guy to come in and lay flooring in the new addition he had started. We said our goodbyes, and I snuggled back into the pillow for a while before getting up to shower and begin the process of unpacking boxes.
The house hadn’t been updated in some time, and my elderly grandmother was like most women her age, content with a collection of decades-old decor that spanned not only her lifetime but that of her own parents and their parents. In all, I was the seventh generation to live in this house. There were remnants of many of us in various aspects of the house, which had been built after the end of the Civil War in the late 1860s. Some of the woodwork and flooring was lovely. The place had been well maintained, but it could do with some fresh paint and redecorating. For now, I would do with just some decor changes.
I packed up some of my grandmother’s less desirable pieces into plastic bins and started moving them down to the basement. An assortment of boxes waited down there, including some that had belonged to Mom and Dad. One day, I would go through it all, but I doubted it would be anytime soon. Perhaps, after I got settled, I would open one or two here and there to slowly work my way through. From the looks of it, I might be done by the time I was ready to turn this place over to any kids I might have one day. I smiled at the thought of that, imagining myself with Jon and a family as I returned up the stairs.
I grabbed a collection of photos off the mantle to put away and noticed one that had gotten buried behind some of the others. I picked it up and looked at it, wiping away the dust that had collected with a nearby tissue. It was Grandma and Jon standing together and smiling up at the camera. I wasn’t sure who had taken the photo or when, but it felt like it was somehow her stamp of approval that I had come here and was with Jon. I lay it to one side with a few others of Grandma, my parents, and me, and put the rest in the plastic bin. Next, I found a cloth and the furniture polish, dusting off the mantle and remaining pics before putting them back.
A knock at the door caught me off guard. I thought it might be Jon getting back early but was surprised to find a young local named Ben Tankersley standing there instead. He was dripping with sweat and wheezing.
“My god, Ben. Are you OK? Come in and let me get you some water.”
“No, no,” he gasped, waving me off as he bent forward, trying to catch his breath.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” I asked, stepping out the door to get a better look at him.
“My dog. My dog is hurt. She’s bad. Please help her,” he brayed.
“Where is she?”
“South pasture that adjoins your back property. I ran here. I know you’re a vet. Can you help her?”
