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I don’t care that the rest of the van Ports, whoever they are, will soon come looking for her.
I don’t care that the other bears will be upset with me when they learn of her.
All I care about is the woman in my arms and doing what I need to do to ensure that she can spend the rest of her life with me.
Later, as we lay together, gasping and sighing from the joy of our coupling, she says, “We’ll need to figure out how to tell my parents.”
I hesitate when she says that. “Does that have to happen now?”
“Well, they expected me home next week,” she says, “and while I’m pretty sure I mean what I say when I say I love you, I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to move in together just yet.”
“Why not?” I ask before I can stop myself.
She giggles and kisses the tip of my nose. “I need my family to meet you so they know you’re not some crazy Wildman. At least, not to them. Otherwise, I swear they’ll send people here all the time bringing food and money but really just checking so they can report back.” She rolls her eyes and says, “I… I always fantasized about having you again but I never allowed myself to even dream it could happen.
She kisses me again, on my lips. Then again on my throat. Then my chest. Then my navel.
She reaches her destination, and I close my eyes and allow myself to focus on the way her mouth feels moving over me.
Chapter Five
Melody
I’m good at blowjobs.
I don’t mean that to brag, and I don’t mean that to highlight that I’m some sort of crazed slut, although I wouldn’t blame you for thinking that I am considering I’ve been here for three days and spent more time with Russel’s cock in one of my holes than not.
Seriously, it’s not possible for me to desire a man as much as I desire him. It’s like just being around him fills me with a need to fuck him and be fucked by him in the most raw and visceral way possible. Hell, sometimes we won’t even say anything to each other. We’ll just look at each other and the next thing we know, we’re desperately trying to see who can make the other pass out from multiple climaxes first.
Okay, that only happens one time, and it’s obviously me. It was bedtime anyway, too, and it was the most refreshing sleep I’ve ever had in my life.
I guess that’s why I decided to wake him up with my mouth.
So, like I say, I’m good at blowjobs. Being a van Port makes me the most desired girl in my circle whether or not I’m attractive. The fact that I happen to be attractive means I never once have to try for male attention (and on one memorable night in college, female attention).
I go on a lot of dates, and very few of those dates result in intercourse. Actually, after Russel, I only have intercourse with two different guys between eighteen and twenty-two.
I have to be attracted to a man to want him in my pussy, but my threshold for blowjobs is much lower. It’s not that I love giving blowjobs. I just don’t hate them, and they’re usually a lot less work than sex. Most men aren’t used to enthusiasm and effort in a blowjob, and showing just a little bit of that usually allows me to make a man cum quickly and gives me all of the necessary ammunition to decline sex later.
Not that I can’t just refuse. Of course, I can. But listen, all guys are intimidated by my last name. I would need to date the sons of multi-millionaires in order to date someone who isn’t intimidated. I just feel bad when guys try really hard, and I just don’t feel anything long-term for them. I have guys falling all over themselves to get to me. I don’t need to try at all, but they do, and sometimes when they pull out all the stops and I still don’t want them between my legs, I’ll suck them off so they can at least get something out of it.
My friends all tell me that the guy should just deal with it, but I feel like that’s kind of mean when they try really hard. Also, my friends say that just as much because of my last name as because they mean it. I could say I hate the color red and most of them would throw out every red piece of clothing in their wardrobe. Anyway, blowjobs aren’t that big of a deal to me, and guys at least leave happy even if they know there won’t be a second date.
Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked. The point is that I’m good at blowjobs, and it takes only a few minutes for me to wake Russel with my mouth in the most wonderful way possible.
“Damn, Melody!” he growls, shaking as his cock begins to spurt in my mouth.
I moan and suck hard, twisting my head and driving him into my throat while he cums. He gasps and jerks even harder, even more so when I begin massaging his balls softly to make it better for him and, I guess, more intimate for me.
I swallow rhythmically, and when he’s finished, I’m not. Ten minutes later, he cries out again, and this time instead of taking him in my throat, I suck the tip hard, twisting deeply and stroking the shaft with one hand while the other traces lines on the underside of his balls.
Finally, he pushes me off of him, gasping and shuddering. I stare in fascination as his still-hard cock twitches in the air. God, it looks so beautiful.
After we shower and he makes breakfast. I notice curiously that all he seems to have to eat around here is steaks and honey. Come to think of it, the only furniture he has is a table and chair, the sofa and the bed.
I shake my head. This place needs a woman’s touch.
After breakfast, he carries me to the bed. He moves slowly and he makes this all about me. I’ve given up trying to figure out if I have long, lasting orgasms or multiple orgasms. I need to say that if the two of us keep up this pace, I’ll be well and truly wrecked. I understand what people mean when they say that now.
