Allure of the Vixen (15 page)

“Right away.” Joanne’s hand moved faster on my cock,
and now she looked up at me. “In fact, I’ve stopped taking birth control.”

I gasped, as much from what she said as from what
she was doing. “How long?”

Joanne held my eyes, and I searched for something in
hers, some rhyme or reason to her telling me this. “I’ll give you a choice.
I’ll answer your question, or. . .” She snuggled down on the bed, her
face close to my semi erect cock, her eyes still locked on mine. “I’ll take you
fully in my mouth. Just once, just for a moment. I won’t let you come.” To
sweeten the temptation, she kissed the head of my cock, her tongue darting into
my opening.

“Damn you,” I muttered.

“I’d rather you said,
Fuck you.
That would be
far preferable an outcome.”

What was she doing to me? The whole virility story,
and now this. Did she think this turned me on, the idea of planting my seed
into her, into her married womb?

Fuck, she knew it did.

And if I asked, would she tell me the truth?

Any answer would drive me crazy, wondering if she
was using me to get pregnant, wondering what else she expected, what she
planned.

“If you’re worried, don’t be. If something happens,
you’ll never know.”

“You mean you won’t tell me if you have a child?”

She kissed my cock again, and against my better
judgment, almost against my will, it grew again. “Don’t be dense. You won’t
know if it’s yours.”

Which meant it could be Peter’s, of course.

Or it meant that she already had another lover
picked out. Another virile lover. Someone she’d be with, and very soon.

Joanne let me go and rose up on her knees. She took
a moment to twist her hair back and up, giving me a clear view of her gorgeous
face. She bent over so that her lips were an inch from my erection, so close I
could feel her breathing. My cock quivered, completely hard again, damn her.

This is what I had wanted, dreamed of. Those
beautiful lips around my cock. In a way, a proof of my manhood, and because she
had withheld this so long, it suddenly seemed even more arousing than fucking
her, than cumming into her.

“You know what I want,” I gritted.

“Say it. You have to say it.”

“I want you to take me in your mouth.”

“Louder. Say it louder!”

“Suck my cock!”

And she did. For a precious few, glorious moments,
she took me, not like she had to, but like she wanted to, like she wanted
nothing more than to please me, to take me, to be taken by me. Nothing in my
life could compare to that, seeing her beautiful face, my cock in her sensual
mouth, and feeling, truly feeling, that she wanted me. All of me.

It was over too fast. Yet not so fast that I would
ever forget it.

She slid up along my body and kissed me, the taste
of her juices still on her tongue, the juices she had just licked off my cock.

 “I hope you realize I just broke one of my rules,”
she said. “For you.”

I flipped her over on the bed so that she was flat
on her back, spreading her legs fully apart. My cock needed no guidance. Poised
at her opening, I said, “And I’m going to break one of mine. Again.” I thrust
into her. “For you.”

She was wet, so wet, yet she grabbed at me with her
pussy, creating friction, closeness. We didn’t kiss, we just watched each
other, her eyes wide, her lips parted, the lips that had moments ago finally surrounded
me, had finally pulled me into her mouth.

I couldn’t imagine that I could possibly come again,
not three times in just a few hours, but I was rock hard, I fucked her like an
animal in heat.

“I thought you might want to take another picture,”
she said. “Of you in my mouth. Some kind of souvenir.”

“I have all the picture I need,” I growled at her,
this back and forth as much a part of us, as much a part of our relationship,
as our sex. “It’s etched in my mind, my cock in your beautiful mouth.”

“Your beautiful cock in my beautiful mouth.” She
squeezed her legs, increasing the friction.

“What souvenir do
you
want?” I asked, feeling
her legs tighten.

“More of your come inside me.”

“You must be filled already.”

“Not yet. Soon, very soon.” Now her legs were tightly
wrapped around me, she was milking me, as she had done before, and I felt
myself get close, her magic, some kind of hormones, who knows what, swirling
around our bodies, making me create the virile seed that she wanted, that I now
truly believe she craved.

“Say it,” I ordered, just as she had done.

“Come in me!”

“Louder!”

Joanne wrapped her arms around my back, her head
over my shoulder, her chin digging into my neck. “Come in me!”

And so help me I did, not knowing where it came
from, but I shot into her, remembering what she had described, imagining my
cock pushing up against her pelvic bone, at the head of her womb, my load
blasting  into her, powerful eruptions, repeating. With each spasm Joanne dug
her hands into my back, her hips and legs rising off the bed, creating a
perfect basin to accept my seed.

We were both shaking, I was so caught up in it, in
the decadence, and yes, in my virility, that I didn’t realize when her orgasm
started, only that she was still shaking long after mine ended.

All my weight was on her, and I began to lift up,
but she just held me closer. “Stay there,” she said. “I don’t want to lose any
of you.”

And by
me,
I knew what she meant. My seed.

I heard her voice from a distance, her face away
from me, looking out into the room somewhere. “I hope that was exactly what you
wanted,” she said.

Again I tried to get up, and again she held me.
“Just another minute,” she whispered in my ear. “I want to make sure it all
sinks in.”

Her grip finally relaxed, and I collapsed on the bed
next to her. “You were right.
Fuck you
was a much better thing to say.”

Joanne still lay on her back. She put her hands over
her pussy, then pulled her legs together, like she was trying to hold on to
everything I had given her. “I’m glad you saw it my way.”

As if I had a choice.

Yet she had given me one, and I
had
made a
choice. I’d never know the answer to one question, and yet I would no longer be
hounded by wondering about something else. An impossible choice in the heat of
the moment. Probably just as Joanne had planned.

Joanne finally turned to me, her hands still between
her legs. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

I only had enough strength left to nod. Fully
drained, I drifted off to sleep, my last image that of Joanne staring into my
eyes, her mystical, powerful, sensual glint fading into blackness.

I awoke in darkness, the sleep so deep and
all encompassing it took me a long moment to realize where I was. Something
crinkled under me.

I reached for Joanne, but she wasn’t there.

Bathroom, I thought.

It took a few minutes for my eyes to make out the
furniture, the drapes, the windows, the open bathroom door.

The open door. I reached over and turned on the
nightstand lamp. Quickly shut it off, it was blinding. I padded naked to the
bathroom, reaching in to turn on the light, leaving the door slightly ajar,
just enough light streaming in to the bedroom so I could see and get
acclimated.

The room was empty. Once glance told me Joanne was
gone, no shoes, no dress, no hint of her ever having been there except for the
musk of sex.

And a red envelope on the bed.

I picked it up, in the dim light seeing only one
thing on the front, a handwritten letter M.

Holding it in my lap, I somehow knew this was the
last connection to Joanne.

I shook my head and went to get a drink of water. My
eyes felt better, so I opened the door to let a little more light in. I thought
of taking the note to the upholstered chair but stayed in the bed, better to
feel Joanne, since it was the last place she had been.

I put the note to my nose, the subtle scent of
Joanne encased in the paper, a smudge of deeper red on the back, where her
tongue had moistened the flap, where her lips had pressed the seal closed.

A page of feminine but not girly script, strong
passionate lines. I finally knew what her handwriting looked like.

It read:

My dearest lover Michael,

I hope you will forgive me for not being able to stay until
morning. I will certainly remember this as our night together, and it would be
special to me if you thought of it that way too.

If you were wondering why it took so long to schedule
this evening, and why I booked the hotel, it’s because I wanted to plan
something very special, not just for you, but for me, and for Peter. Today, as
of midnight, a few hours ago, is his birthday.

We always give each other something special on our
birthdays. This year I asked him what he wanted, and he told me to choose, as
he always does. I thought long and hard, and yet the answer, when it came, was
so obvious. I wonder if you would have chosen it too, if I asked you what I
should give him.

I gave Peter a choice. He could fuck me, which as you
know I usually only let him do on our anniversary, or he could listen to me
with one of my lovers. Can you guess which gift he chose? I do think I’m rather
good at presenting these choices, don’t you?”

I stopped there, thinking exactly that, of the
choice she had given me, one just a few hours ago. Choices with both answers
right, and both answers wrong. I shook my head, I was smiling, I couldn’t help
it.

The next few lines sobered me up quickly.

Peter chose to listen to me with one of my lovers. To
me and you. Even in that he had a choice, and he chose you.

Peter is in the next room to yours. He’s been in the
next room since when I arrived to see you. Depending on what time you are
reading this, he and I are in the next room right now, or he is alone, and I
have moved on to another part of his birthday present, one that will be a
surprise even for him.

I gave him a stethoscope, like the doctors use. Do you
know it is quite useful for listening through walls? I practiced with it. I
heard you come in to the room earlier, I heard you watch tv.  I wanted Peter to
hear everything you and I did. How you fucked me. How I begged you for you to
come in me.

I’m writing this before all this happens, and so I’m
praying it turns out as planned. And just writing it is making me wet, making
me want you. If all goes as planned, I will go to Peter right after I am with
you, so that he can feel how wet I am, so he can touch me. So he can feel my
heat. So he can kiss my pussy.

My hands dropped to my lap, I was stunned. I
expected the unexpected from Joanne, but nothing could have prepared me for
this. My eyes flicked to the wall separating my room from the next, the plaster
the only thing between me and them. What were they doing now? Was Joanne
telling Peter everything? What had she said to me once before? That she gave
him all the details, the excruciating details?

Joanne had been so much more vocal tonight, almost
yelling, begging me to come in her. Now I understood why.

The note continued, the handwriting slightly
different, more hurried.

I’m finishing this in the bathroom. You’ve fallen
asleep, and it gives me a little more time to add some details. 

Just knowing Peter was listening  drove me wild
tonight with you. Could you feel it? I so wanted him to be right in the room,
but I didn’t think that would be right for you. Maybe I should have asked. For
someone who fucks as well as you do, who has slept with as many women as I bet
you have, you have a bit of a conservative streak in you. It’s not a criticism,
as I’ve said many times, it is who you are. So I hesitated to ask you, not
knowing if you would want to have Peter watch, not wanting to spoil it for any
of us.

But I did something bad, so very bad. When you went to
the bathroom, I unlocked the adjoining room door on our side. Peter was able to
do the same, and he peeked in. More than peeked, he watched. As you lay on top
of me, my legs and arms wrapped around you, my head over your shoulder, I could
see him, and he could see everything. I was looking right into his eyes as you
fucked me, as I begged you to come in me, as you spurted into me. I’ve never
seen him so proud and aroused, ever.

Again I had to stop reading. I knew exactly what she
was talking about, exactly when that must have happened, the memory of her chin
and neck biting into mine, picturing it from the door, her hips pulling me into
her, pulling my cock, my seed.

All while looking right at her husband.

What was it she had said at that moment?
I hope
that was exactly what you wanted.
She hadn’t been talking to me at all. She
had been talking to Peter.

I got up and crossed the room. Sure enough, the adjoining
door was ajar, just slightly, but enough for someone on the other side to be
able to see into my room. The second door, to their room, was closed.

My first impulse was to see if their door was
unlocked, to push inside, to take Joanne away. Peter didn’t deserve her. I’d
break down the damn door if I had to.

My fists clenched, my fingers digging into my palms,
just as Joanne’s had dug into my back.  Bringing me back to how I felt, how I
thought she felt. I sensed no acting, no real deception, she had been fully
aroused, just as she had always been with me. I had an ego, and she knew that,
and she also probably knew that my ego would always make me believe that it was
something special about me that excited her, that she couldn’t or wouldn’t have
responded that way with just any man.

Besides, being who she was, she could have had any
man. And she had chosen me.