A Fireplace in LA



He came up behind her as she stood on the balcony 
looking down at the river of freeway light flowing 
through the night into the center of Los Angeles.  His 
arms wrapped around her, enfolding her, giving her his 
warmth.  She nestled contentedly inside his cocoon and 
nuzzled the top of her head against his cheek.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said.

"But cold."

"LA or the night?"

"Both, maybe.  The night for sure."

"Yes."  But she was in no hurry to move, enjoying the 
view and closeness.  Besides, with his arms around 
her, she wasn't cold anymore.

"Come inside, hon.  The fire's beautiful, too."

She turned within his arms and slid hers up around his 
neck, tilting her head back and seeking his lips.  He 
bent to her, met her, nibbled at the corner of her 
mouth, licked his tongue across her lips and then 
pushed it deep between them.  She opened to him, 
welcomed him, caressed his tongue with her own.

His arms pulled her to him, her breasts beneath her 
sweater pillowed against his chest.  He slid a hand 
down her back to the base of her spine and pressed her 
inward to him.  She wrapped herself around his legs, 
climbing high against his thigh.  He pressed back, the 
bone of his leg nestled in softness.  She wriggled 
like a pinned butterfly, pushing and relaxing with her 
hips.

"Mmmmm," he said after a while.  "I don't feel cold 
now, but I still want to go inside."

"Why?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"Because the neighbors might object if I bent you over 
the railing."

"How much would they object?" she said, as if she were 
considering possibilities.

He laughed, turned and opened the sliding glass door, 
escorted her through it.


They sat on the sofa in front of the fire.  Before 
long, she kicked off her shoes and slid down to 
stretch out on the clearly fake and very comfortable 
tiger rug, where he watched her bask in the warmth of 
the fire for several minutes before snuggling up 
behind her.  It was not long after that that he kissed 
her over her shoulder, nibbling his way down her 
cheek, and she kissed him back, turning her head to 
meet his lips.  His hand, at first on her ribs, slid 
upward to cup her breast.  She pressed into his hand 
eagerly.

He kissed her ear, her throat, her neck.  She let her 
head loll back while he nibbled and sucked and kissed 
her throat.  She sighed and shifted her body to 
encourage him not to neglect her other breast.  He 
slipped his hand under her sweater and trailed his 
fingers up across her ribs to cup the soft fullness.  
He could feel the lace of her bra, that mystical 
garment, holder of the holy.  He swept his thumb 
across the front and felt her stiff nipple respond.

Pulling her backward, he urged her to lie down on the 
rug and then straddled her torso with his arms.  He 
let himself down toward her, reached for her lips with 
his, found their soft silk, and kissed them gently.  
His tongue slipped out only a fraction, traced across 
her pouty lower lip, and withdrew.  It returned, 
licked lightly at her lip again, then teased her upper 
lip.  She held still, barely breathing.  His lips 
pressed hers more firmly, insisted, begged her to kiss 
him, but still she held back.  He ran his tongue over 
her teeth, put his thumb at the corner of her jaw and 
pressed, and when her teeth separated, ran his tongue 
into her mouth.  And now she kissed him back.

The fire was warm and so were they.  He raised her up 
and pulled the sweater up over her head.  She shook 
her hair, reached behind her back and unfastened her 
bra, pulled it forward off her shoulders and let her 
alabaster breasts fall free.  She lay back again, 
smiling slightly, letting him look at her.  He took a 
deep breath, a sigh really, and lowered his lips to 
the tops of her breasts, cupping them beneath with his 
hand, each in turn, while he kissed the soft tops, 
kissed their outer sides and the fragrant valley 
between them, ran his tongue under them.

Her nipples were soft buttons against his cheeks as he 
nuzzled her breasts.  At last, he moved to them.  For 
a moment, his mouth was suspended above one rosy tip.  
He blew a breath that felt hot to her.  Then his 
tongue licked the nipple and blew on it again, and 
this time it was cool.  Her nipples hardened to 
pebbles, so turgid they almost hurt.  He took one in 
his lips gently, and the soft caress was soothing and 
intimately erotic.  The tip of his tongue teased the 
nipple's surface.  She strained her breast toward his 
mouth, wanting him to suck it all into his mouth, 
nurse at her, drain her, use her.

He slipped a hand between her legs and cupped her sex.  
She could not help but rise to his touch, seek it, let 
him know he could have it, let him know she was 
thinking of him being there where his hand stroked 
along her pussy lips through two layers of clothing, 
thinking of what it would feel like when he put 
himself in her and began to pump it in and out.  She 
moaned and hugged him as his fingers pressed inward, 
pressed her already damp panties into her moist slot.

Wrapped in each other's arms, they hugged and kissed 
deeply and tumbled farther down into that special sex 
dimensionality where the real gradually dims and the 
urgent, tactile, desperate world of mating becomes 
everything.  The smell of the wood fire blended with 
the smell of them.  Up close, scents were magnified -- 
the faint perfume at her throat, the very different 
perfume left on her hair by her shampoo, his 
antiperspirant intermixed with volatile scent from his 
armpits, the fragrance musk of her moistening sex.  He 
smell/touch/kissed her breasts, and she inhaled his 
glistening presence.

When he began to unfasten the front of her slacks, she 
did the same to him and did not stop even when his 
fingers were faster and slid, cool at first, into her 
panties and through the covering scrub of hair and 
found the damp slot.  Her breath caught in her throat 
when he slid his finger downward to nestle between 
those wet and sensitive lips, but she released the 
button and hook that held his pants together and, as 
the sides parted, slipped her hand under the waist of 
his white cotton shorts and found his rigid, straining 
erection thrusting to meet her moist palm.  She held 
him, slid her hand up and down, which prompted his own 
ragged breath in response.

His finger felt for her hole, found it, and easily 
slipped in to the big knuckle.  She was wet, slick, 
aroused.  Her hips urged him to push his finger the 
rest of the way in.  She strained to get more when he 
reached deep.  She wrapped both hands around his pole 
and jacked it toward her stomach.

He pushed his face away from hers, down over her neck, 
her breasts, her ticklish middle that pulled away from 
his kisses into a shallow basin framed by her hips.  
He kissed her stomach and bellybutton.  He kissed the 
top of her bush and the very beginning of her legs, 
the valley of her groin, pushing her slacks and 
panties down as she lifted her hips to help him. He 
slid his face farther down and nibbled lightly near 
the top of her sex.  He pushed her pants and panties 
down around her ankles and helped her take them off, 
then turned and began to kiss his way up her legs.

He kissed lightly over her calves, and even more 
lightly in the soft flesh behind her knees. He trailed 
his tongue over her thighs mixed with intermittent 
nips and kisses until her reach the valley where they 
joined.  Pushing her legs up and out, he spread her, 
pushed his finger into her again, gnawed on each of 
her outer lips and thrust his tongue as deeply into 
her as he could.

Finally, when she thought she would explode with 
tension and longing, he slid his tongue upward just a 
little more and, stiffening and lengthening it, traced 
around and around the bump at the top of her opening.  
What started as a sigh of relief rose up in her throat 
to a whimpering cry that faded off into a shuddering 
moan.  Her hips squirmed involuntarily and then she 
pressed them forward, consciously and eagerly, 
inviting his tongue, seeking his tongue, demanding his 
tongue.

"Oh, jeez," she sighed.  "Oh, god, that feels good."

Still his tongue avoided the tip, rolled around and 
around it instead, almost touching, then dipped 
downward and plunged into her again, pushing and 
reaching, then slid out and upward to roll around and 
around the path that circled her clit.  She tried to 
guide his tongue with her hips, reaching for it, 
wanting it against her there.  His hands, which were 
on either side of her pussy, holding her open to his 
attack, pressed down and forward, pinning her to the 
floor and preventing her from succeeding.  Instead, he 
dropped downward, avoiding what she wanted.  He pushed 
his tongue into her again, slathered it inside her 
like a blind, slimy thing slipping and sliding in 
their mixed juices as it discovered her shape by feel.

And then he moved forward suddenly and dragged the 
rough velvet of his muscular tongue right across the 
most exquisitely sensitive top of her button.  Her 
entire body jerked like she'd been punched in the 
middle, and her hands flew down to bury in his hair.  
She thought she was going to push him away, but by the 
time her hands actually found his head and twined in 
his hair, she could only for a moment hold him away 
and keep him from pressing in, but just for a moment 
before her will and fear collapsed and she shifted 
like a sail changing tack and pulled him into her, 
reveling in the feel of his tongue as it chased and 
traced and lashed back and forth and around and around 
and down and across -- Oh!  Oh! -- across again.  

She heard a whine in the distance and it was seconds 
before she realized it was her own voice, and even 
though she tried to stifle it, even though she 
clenched her teeth and clamped her lips tight, the cry 
fought its way up and out of her nose, rising in pitch 
and volume.  It turned into a series of panting, 
quickening breaths, which she realized dimly -- as if 
through cotton, through layers of blankets -- that 
those sounds of another woman in another room crying 
out her passion were her.  Because she was coming, and 
she had no time to worry about sounds.  Right there, 
in the magic spot at her center, the waves of pleasure 
-- though pleasure is such a weak word for it -- the 
waves of pleasure that had rolled up and out and 
through her suddenly reversed course and pulled 
inward, from her toes, which thrust and released like 
a ballerina seen sideways, and from the top of her 
scalp, which tingled and crawled and sent electric 
shocks downward.  The waves flowed up her legs and 
down over her shoulders, then quivered her thighs and 
convulsed her stomach muscles.  And then everything 
clutched and contracted and collided and exploded 
outward in a blinding flash like the birth of a 
universe, and she was coming and crying and coming.

When she came to her senses, she felt his warm tongue 
licking her folds gently.  Although he carefully 
avoided her supersensitive clit, it was still too much 
for her, too much after too much, and she pushed 
tenderly at his forehead to let him know that, however 
wonderful it had been, she'd had enough.

He lifted his head from her middle and looked up, her 
face framed by the valley between her breasts.

"God," she said, "that was wonderful.  But I can't 
take any more right now."

"Sure you can," he said, contradicting her.  He raised 
up farther and slid his body along hers until he could 
slip a hand under her neck to cup her shoulder and 
roll her toward him.  His lips sought hers, and she 
welcomed them, smelling herself in the soaking wet 
hair of his beard.  Their tongues met and they kissed 
deeply.  The fire was warm on her back, and he was 
warm against her front, and she could have cuddled 
like this for hours.  Perhaps, she thought, they would 
wake in the middle of the night, or perhaps the next 
morning...

His cock was trapped between their bodies, strong and 
throbbing.  She felt bad, because he had been a most 
considerate and satisfying lover, and she resolved to 
make it up to him next time, whenever it was.  She 
buried her nose in the hollow of his neck and snuggled 
closer.

"You weren't thinking of quitting, were you?"

She sighed.  "Well...yes.  I mean..."

"Tough," he said.  "It's my turn."

"But..."

He rolled on top of her, his legs wedging between 
hers.  She didn't want to be hostile, so she relaxed 
her thighs and let him in.  He nestled his straining 
manhood into the damp notch and slid it up and down 
between the lips, which were relaxed and open to him, 
despite her attitude.

"Mm.," she said -- a complaint, not a moan.  "No, 
honey, later.  Please."

"Screw that," he said.  "I want you.  Now."

"No, please..."

He ignored her.  He slid a hand down between them, 
cupped a thigh, and slid farther down toward her knee.  
He pressed outward and lifted her leg at the same 
time, which spread her open and raised her middle to 
him.  Letting go of her, he  guided his thick cock to 
her notch, rolled the head in her juices, and pushed 
downward into the soft grasp of her opening.

She sucked in a breath as he pressed inward, 
stretching her.  She was still very wet, but also 
still very tight, and he had to back and press and 
back and press as he worked it into her.  She was of 
two minds -- pissed at his insistence but turned on by 
his desire.  He wanted her, badly.  He was going to 
fuck her -- he was fucking her -- whether she wanted 
it or not.

His cock pushed up deep inside her, finding her depth, 
pressing at her cervix, filling her.  He let his 
weight settle onto her, spreading her thighs widely, 
letting his body drive his pulsing tool as deep as 
possible.  His balls rubbed against the cheeks of her 
ass, hair tickling the sensitive skin around her rear 
opening.

"Yes," he said, "that's better."  He rolled his hips, 
making his cock turn inside her, pressing against the 
top of her gash and her clit, which was no longer so 
sensitive that the pressure, the touch, was 
unpleasant.  But, still, she thought, it was too much 
work.  She decided just to lie back and let him.

Slowly, by millimeters, he pulled back.  His cock 
jerked and twitched inside her as he dragged it 
outward ever so maddeningly slowly.  Her insides 
seemed to collapse with suction as the plum-like head 
moved backward, the thick part of his column moving 
upward, a noticeable bulge pressing outward against 
her tightly grasping tunnel as it slid oh so slowly 
out.  She tried not to care, tried to think of 
something else, but she was overcome with a growing 
sense of loss, of desperation.  Her hands gripped his 
shoulders, her nails clawed inward and pressed into 
his flesh.  He was leaving her; she was losing him.  
He would go away and never come back.  The feeling was 
going, going.  There was a catch at the back of her 
throat and a sudden moistness in her eyes.

He came out all the way until the head slipped through 
her outer lips and finally stopped with just the tip 
still inside her, the lips pursed outward like a kiss.  
He paused there while she took a ragged, sighing 
breath, and then he began to sink it into her again 
just as slowly as he had left her.  She gave a little 
cry of gratitude and spread her legs wider to welcome 
him, opening but not pushing back, letting him control 
the slow penetration, the soul-cleaving knife of his 
manhood slicing into her flesh, the burrowing, 
tunneling reach of his cock as it spread her, opened 
her, took her completely.

He reached bottom and still pressed forward, rooting 
into her even deeper than before.  She felt a dull 
pain as he pressed too hard against her cervix, but it 
was a remote feeling, like pain at the center of the 
earth.  She clasped him to her, raised her arms from 
where they had lain passively on the floor to wrap 
them around his shoulders and pull her breasts up to 
press against his chest.  The hair of his chest 
brushed her nipples like small electric whips.  She 
raised her legs, gripped his waist with her thighs and 
locked her ankles behind his back, pushing her glove 
up onto the fat finger.

"Changed your mind?" he asked, a hint of laughter in 
his tone.

"Shut up," she said through gritted teeth.  "Fuck me."

He pulled back fast this time and then shoved into 
her, then gave her several short but rapid strokes 
before beginning to slide the entire length in and out 
of her.  He began to pump her steadily, forcefully.  
He wanted to defeat her, to pound her, to make her lie 
back and take it, but she was catching fire again and 
discovering new energy.  Her hips twitched as he slid 
in and out, rolled in voluptuous circles, pressed 
forward and dragged back, making his cock roll and 
press and drag inside her.  She pushed up when he 
pushed in, locked him to her with her arms and legs, 
ground herself against him as he tried to saw in and 
out, mashed her pussy downward so that the shaft of 
his cock dragged along her clit, sending out fresh 
shock waves that echoed through her body.

"Ooooh," she hissed.  "You bastard.  Couldn't wait, 
could you?"

He grinned as he sluiced in and out of her, knowing 
she was as eager as he was now.  He reveled in the 
tight grasp of her hole, felt her tighten and release 
as he slid in and out.  He loved the way she fucked 
him back, opened herself to him, offered it all to him 
and took what she wanted at the same time.  He began 
to slam into her, his hips slapping the back of his 
thighs.  He would come in a moment.

"Aaaaaagh," he groaned as he pulled out of her 
entirely.  She gave him a look of bewildered 
disappointment, but he quickly laid down beside her 
and pushed at her near shoulder, rolling her away from 
him and onto her side.  Cuddling up behind her, he 
used his hand to guide his cock back to her slot and 
pushed forward.  He oozed back into her until he was 
buried to the hilt and his wiry bush was tickling her 
fanny.  He forced an arm under her and wrapped it 
across her chest, cupping and fondling her breast, 
bending her back against him like a bow.  His other 
hand slid around her thigh, pulling her hips back 
against him as he pushed in and out.  Then his fingers 
slid down into the vee of her thighs, spread her lips, 
slid around his own penetrating prick for a moment, 
and then sought and found her clit.  The bud was 
exposed by the wide-stretched penetration of her core.  
His fingertip quickly found it and stroked it.

"Oh, god," she shuddered.  "Ohmigod."

"So you want it?" he hissed, sliding in and out 
furiously.

"Yes!" she cried.  "Yes, goddamn it!  Fuck me!"

He gave what she wanted and she fucked him back.  For 
long moments, moments from another dimension, he 
plunged in and out of her slick gully -- or she rode 
his proud pole, swallowing and spitting it out -- or 
they both fucked each other as hard as they could.  
For those long alien moments stolen from elsewhen, 
they tried to merge, strained to merge, slid in and 
out and over and off the other, and almost lost track 
of whether he was taking her or she was taking him.

But it was definitely his fingers that were stroking 
the top of her pussy, sliding over her clit and making 
her whole body tremble.  Her breath was loud, but not 
louder than his, which huffed in her ear as he pulled 
her back to him.  And then she was also aware that it 
was her pussy that was clutching at him, almost 
vibrating, and his stiff, iron-velvet cock was pushing 
in and out of her.  It felt noticeably hot, like a 
poker from the fire.  She was on fire.  Her breasts 
and cheeks were flushed.

He felt her clutch at him and knew she was close 
again.  Suddenly, he was even closer.

"Ohhhh," he moaned, a long, shuddering sigh.

She threw herself back at him, fucking him now, 
fucking herself, too.

"Oh, is he going to come?" she teased, doing her best 
to make him.  "Do you like it then?"  She rolled her 
hips around and around on his stabbing erection.

"Shut up!" he hissed.  "Just shut up and take it!"  He 
pushed her down, so that she was almost on her 
stomach, and rolled his weight onto her butt.  His 
hands pressed her shoulders to the floor, his body 
pinned her hips, and he slammed his cock into her 
pussy.

"Oh, shit!" he whined, and shot into her.  She felt 
him convulse, knew he was coming, and exploded 
herself.  She pushed back against his forceful thrusts 
and then suddenly could no longer control her body as 
an orgasm even stronger than the first stripped her 
electrical circuits and left her jerking like a shock 
victim.  They twisted and jerked and slapped together, 
peaked in a last convulsion, and slowly collapsed into 
a puddle of limp flesh.