Love: Classified (15 page)

     I caught my breath. He looked so strong, so magnificent.

     I longed to rush into his arms but self-loathing held me back.

    
“I’ve behaved like a monk for weeks while you’ve lain next to me,” he said furiously. “You cover yourself from neck to ankle in flowing garments and then, when you finally take a layer or two off, you expect me not to react?”

     I stepped back, unsure of him. He’d never been
so angry with me before.

     “If you don’t believe I find you beautiful, perhaps this will prove it,” he breathed, forcibly pulling me against him and bringing his mouth down roughly on mine.

     I tried to resist, to push him away, but my own body sabotaged me. Instinctively, my arms went round his broad, cool back and I hardly noticed as he pulled me into a secluded rock pool out of sight of other campers. With a life of their own, my lips moved against his and my mouth opened to admit his tongue which so suggestively and magically echoed what every atom of my being yearned for from him now that he’d started. As we kissed, I felt his big penis bucking against my belly and acting instinctively and completely against my better judgment I reached down, slid my hand into his shorts and held it tight, gripping it, feeling its potency. He moaned as I squeezed it and breathed heavily into my mouth as I stretched further down and gripped his heavy balls, massaging their puckering skin as his tongue explored more insistently, licking the surfaces of my teeth, under my tongue. His hands held each of my buttocks, pushing me against his massive member. And then he slid his tongue down my neck and, half kneeling in the water, he began sucking first one nipple and then the other while I kept my hold on his cock, using it as a rope to prevent us floating apart. As he sucked, rhythmic palpitations rocked through me and I felt my juices ooze out of me and into the water while his own pre-cum warmed my hand as I tugged.

    
I was a virgin, but I wanted this man so badly and in every possible way that I was hungry to feel and taste all of him. As he sucked on my breast, I let my fingers tickle the soft skin behind his balls. He moaned loudly, giving himself up to the sensation while I revelled in my power, in his urgent need for me.

     Suddenly he groaned and ripped my swimsuit apart. He lifted me above the water, my finger came out of him and I saw his penis, purple and glistening.
Some primeval animal urge in me drove me to be desperate for him to enter me but I had to taste him first. He pushed me into a horizontal position on the riverbank, holding himself above me with his beautiful strong arms, his cock over my face. I raised my head and greedily opened my mouth to his hot penis, tasting the saltiness of his copious pre-cum. As I sucked his dick, and then gnawed gently on each pendulous ball, I slid my finger to the soft skin behind his balls and relished the immediate effect it had on him. He crawled backwards then and lowered himself into me centimetre by glorious centimetre.

     His
heavy-lidded eyes – almost black with desire – widened and he whispered, “Are you a virgin?”

     I nodded, afraid to answer with my voice, which I had no control over. It could have come out a squeak or a yell, alerting anyone who might be near.

     “Then I’m the luckiest bloke in the world,” he murmured, licking my chin, my neck, my breasts as withdrew and held himself above me again, as if appraising me. His cock was rigid, dripping nectar on my tummy, and I was in heaven.

    
He gently entered me again, never taking his eyes off mine, and I wondered how human beings who had a partner to have sex with could ever take time out to do anything else. Being screwed by Magnus Winchester was the most fabulous experience of my whole life. But then, after I’d had three orgasms that thundered through me and left me panting for breath, he surprised me by pulling his cock out and putting his fingers into my pussy. He licked them, grinning, and then dipped in again. “Taste how delicious you are,” he whispered, sliding them into my mouth. And my juices – mixed with his – were indeed a fabulous cocktail.

     “You’re the most wonderful lover,” he whispered, grinning. “I hope you don’t mind if I prolong
both our pleasure.”

     I shook my head, again not trusting my voice.

     He rocked back and forth inside me a few more times and my miraculous body tightened around his thickness and drew him in even further to where I was white hot, molten. Our bodies convulsed, trembled, convulsed until I came again, crying out with exquisite delight as he brought me to the pinnacle. I was amazed when I happened to glance the sky over his shoulder, and the shimmering trees, that everything seemed brighter and sparkly.

   
Too soon he said hoarsely, “I’m going to come any second. Do you want me to come in your pussy or your mouth?”

     I wanted him everywhere. I wanted to feel the power of him every possible way, but most of all I wanted to taste his cum.

     “My mouth,” I managed to say, instantly almost regretting my decision as he pulled out of me.

 
     “I’m coming,” he rasped, pulling out.

    
  In a millisecond he was over my face and my hand met his as he lowered his penis into my mouth. I adored holding its heat in my hand and with the other I tugged his balls, which were rock hard. I licked the ridge of skin behind its head and he gave a deep-throated groan of ecstasy as his cum rocketed to the back of my throat and I swallowed, not tasting it because it had overshot my taste buds.

     “Oh. My. God,” he breathed,
pulling it out and collapsing on top of me as I clung to him, unable to believe what had just happened.

     “You. Are. Brilliant,” he mouthed against my neck, his sweat mixing with mine.

     “You’re the brilliant one,” I murmured. “What a body!”

     “No, believe me, Virginia
,” he panted, regaining his breath after his orgasm. “You’re the best. You might’ve been a virgin until a few minutes ago but you behave like a very naughty and highly skilled high-class lady of the night.”

     I chuckled. I was the happiest woman on the planet, with Magnus in my arms, his penis jerking
between us as his erection subsided. I cradled his head against my neck and rubbed the small of his back, wondering if other women got off on the wicked sensation of being both mistress and mother to her man.

     After a while we both got too hot and we slid into the water again, where he held me against his chest.
Gravity ensured I was almost weightless in the water..

     Everything seemed more real than ever before.
The sky was bluer, the water purer, the waterbirds’ cries more poignant. And my body seemed capable of magic, if Magnus’s responses were anything to go by. Women might be able to fake orgasm, but men can’t. My only disappointment was not tasting his cum. Hopefully I’d make up for that another time, I thought.

     “You’re the best, Virginia,” he said again.

     And I believed him.

     Afterwards, we defied convention and showered together in the
women’s bathroom, so engrossed in each other that we weren’t aware if other people came and went. Behind the cubicle door, I luxuriated in the pleasure of soaping his body, exchanging smiles with him as his penis woke again, its purple tip working free of the foreskin. I knelt under the stream of water and took him in my mouth again. I sucked hard, fondling his balls with my fingers, and then licked the powerful shaft from tip to base, up and down in long, lingering laps. This time he came less powerfully, but I held my head back a little so his cum would land on my tongue.

     Magnus tasted of the sea.
The powerful, magnificent ocean.

     He grinned down at me as I licked my lips. If I’d been a cat, my purring would’ve shaken the building. 

     He turned
off the shower and I dried him tenderly, toweling him between the legs, fluffing his pubic hair. Back in Matty I cooked for him, conjuring an omelette so fluffy and perfect, so fragrant with herbs, cheese and mushrooms that if was a work of art, even if I said so myself. We ate in silence and I luxuriated in the fact that he never took his eyes off me.

Later in the day, however, my happiness turned sour. We were walking, as we often did, to the bakery, saying hello to some of the locals with whom we were becoming familiar. We rarely drove anywhere in the little town, preferring to stroll along and chat to people. Magnus was a hero in their eyes. Everyone had heard about his felling the bikies and rescuing the boy. Although on this day, some of the townsfolk seemed to be giving us quizzical looks.

     A
Daily Herald
poster outside the newsagent’s shop seared into my eyes. “DEATH DOCTOR ACQUITTED” it blared in huge red capitals. Then, in smaller letters, printed across the forehead of a photo of Magnus, “Winchester Walks Away”.

     Magnus’ step faltered and, as I turned to give him my hand, his face blanched.

     “It had to happen,” he said quietly.

     “Let’s go back to Matilda,” I said, desperate to steer him away from the horrified gazes of the passers-by, eager to be as far away as possible from the cruel hea
dline.

     “We need bread, Virginia.”

     “I can get it later.”

     “I have to face up to what I’ve done. I might as well start now.”

     “Magnus, I don’t know anything about this, but the poster says you were acquitted. You’re innocent. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

     “I killed a child,” he
rasped. “Because of me, a family has lost a loved one. My marriage has shattered. I’ve blown any chance I might have had of getting a job anywhere in the world. And, until I met you, my confidence had hit rock-bottom.”

     “You’re innocent,” I said again. I had to make myself believe it. Why was he a “death doctor”? What dreadful thing had happened?

     “Come on, let’s go,” I insisted, taking his arm.

     Somehow we braved the stares, walked back to the caravan park, climbed into the van and closed the door behind us.

     Magnus flung himself down on his mattress, lying on his back with his arms cradling his head as if protecting it from blows. I lay beside him, feeling his tension, his ragged breathing.

     “You don’t have to stay with me,” he bit out, shrugging away from me. “You have about eight weeks left. Go and enjoy it. I’m not good company. Go and see Josie.
She needs you.” 

     “I want to stay,” I said, beginning to cry. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I love you.”

     “I’m not worth loving. You only have to read the newspaper to find that out. Anyway, I’m not joking about Josie. She has cancer. They found it when she was admitted for her leg, so it was just as well she had that accident. I read her notes when we visited her in hospital. She and Jake will be very glad to have you back.”

     “Do you think she’ll die?” I whispered.

     “It’s bowel cancer. Sometimes if it’s discovered early enough, it can be successfully treated. I think you should go and see her. I was going to suggest it tonight anyway. The poster had just precipitated things.”

    
“Why don’t you come too? They like you, Magnus.”

     “They won’t like me after reading about me.”

     “Rubbish!”

     “Virginia, please, I need to be alone. Please go.”

     Resignedly I got to my feet and began throwing my things into my suitcase.

     “Perhaps I’ll see
you later, Magnus,” I said, stepping down from Matilda for the last time. “Please know that I’ll always be glad to see you, if you ever want to come and have a drink with me, or watch a movie.”

     He didn’t say goodbye, or even lift his head as I walked away.

     Dashing tears from my eyes, I walked back to the main street, marched into the newsagent, bought the newspaper with its hideous headline, folded it, tucked it under my arm and walked to the railway station to wait for the train to take me back to the city.

     I sat o
n one of the benches, having deposited my case on the platform, and with shaking hands unfolded
The Daily Herald.

    
“Dr Magnus Winchester, forty-five, was today acquitted by the Supreme Court, bringing to a close a legal battle which has lasted several months,” proclaimed the first paragraph.

     “The doctor, who had been charged with the manslaughter of five year-old Kristy Smith, did not appear before the judge. He was represented by his sister, lawyer Daisy Winchester, who argued eloquently for her brother’s freedom.”

     I stopped reading, remembering the day I’d seen Magnus and the attractive blonde together at the art gallery. I scanned the page. There was a picture of Magnus with Daisy. She was the woman whose benign presence had caused me to run and lock myself away in my house. I sighed with a kind of relief and resumed reading.

     “Ms Winchester, armed with a bewildering array of medical records and statistics, blinded the judge with science when she presented her family’s side of the story. The little girl, who had been admitted into Dr Winchester’s care,
died during a routine tonsillectomy. Ms Winchester supplied evidence to prove that the child suffered a fatal allergy to the anaesthetic, an allergy of which her brother was unaware.