In almost no time at all they were back, Marcie letting Ben in, then both of them slipped their shoes off in the hallway. “Cup of tea?” Ben asked innocently, and Marcie agreed, taking her smart jacket off to hang it on the back of a chair as they passed through the living room, where Ben dropped off his own jacket.
But when they got to the kitchen and Ben dropped the bag from the chemist’s on the top, she did not give him the chance to reach for the kettle. She raised one hand to stroke the side of his face, placing the other on his flat stomach, sighing as she murmured, “Oh, Ben!”
With only a moment’s confusion, he mirrored her action, cradling her soft cheek and warm ear in his rough hand, his other at her waist, then leant down to kiss her upturned lips. For a moment he thought of the figures of the lovers in the golden picture that hung in the next room, but then his senses were filled with Marcie’s living presence.
He tasted her as their mouths opened to each other with eager slippery sounds. They both pressed themselves forcefully to the other’s lips, their jaws wide open, pushing their tongues deep into each other’s mouths. It was a shared hunger that they were both urgently feeding, relishing the sensations as they struggled to try and swallow each other. Ben drew in the simple scent of Marcie’s skin and hair as he inhaled deeply through his flared nostrils, and he felt the warmth of her skin beneath his hands through the thin silky fabric of her blouse. He became aware of where the straps of her bra ran and where there was warm dampness under her armpits. This real human intimacy made him eager to see her undress, to bring to life some of those daydreams or whatever they were that they had been talking about so much.
Perhaps Marcie had been thinking along similar lines, as she was suddenly trying to lift his t-shirt up. He eagerly assisted, pulling it quickly over his shoulder and head. Marcie did not wait for him to disentangle himself fully from its neck and arm holes as she pressed her face to his chest, nuzzling aside her charm on the chain around his neck, kissing his bare skin, then making quick playful bites at his pectorals and then his nipple.
Impulsively, Ben lifted her up by putting his hands firmly under her armpits and boosting her briefly off her feet. She gave a tiny scream of delighted laughter as he landed her bottom down on the kitchen top. Then her legs were wrapped around his hips, trapping him in the grip of her powerful thighs, as she drew him towards her, raking her fingernails down his back as she pulled her head back, grinning mischievously as she looked into his eyes. Ben was acutely aware that his groin was pressing against hers, his arousal already strong, and he wondered if Marcie felt an equivalent arousal in her Vixen, her vagina, separated from his firm penis by just a few layers of cloth.
“How about it then, Ben?” she asked as she let her legs relax. He began to realise that she must indeed have been feeling the same way as she continued, “The doctor said we can do it, you have an inhaler just in case, we’ve got some rubber mackintoshes for Roddie. Are we finally ready to have sex now? Can we make love properly at last? Will you really fuck me now?”
“Yes,” Ben answered simply and eagerly as he breathed heavily and easily, raising his hands to the top button of Marcie’s blouse as he spoke, “Was that you asking three times, so I knew you meant it? Yes, yes, yes! Let’s do it now, in the kitchen, just like you wanted to yesterday.”
“Oh!” Marcie exclaimed as Ben’s fingers urgently worked down her buttons, revealing the lace trim of her peach-coloured bra. “I thought you’d take me through to the bedroom,” she explained, and now her hands were on Ben’s belt, unfastening it without hesitating. “But you’re right! It can be here, now. Our first time, right at the kitchen sink!”
She had got Ben’s belt undone and forcefully pulled the buttons of his jeans open. Now she was trying to push them down, her fingers under the waistband of his boxer shorts too. He understood what she was trying to do and stepped back slightly, dropping his hands from her gaping blouse to push his jeans and shorts right down, exposing himself to her. While he stooped and danced about to free his feet, balancing with one hand on the kitchen top beside Marcie’s buttock, his erect penis stuck out towards her unashamedly, its foreskin already rolled back from its bright red head. But Marcie pushed him a little further back so that she could slide off the worktop herself, then quickly unfastened her own trousers’ buttons and pulled them down too. Ben saw she was wearing high waisted silky knickers with the peach tone and broad lace trim that matched her glimpsed bra, but she’d not yet pushed these down.
Ben stood naked before her now, his back to the sink and the kitchen window, but something about Marcie’s manner suddenly seemed to slow down. “Oh Ben,” she sighed again as she pushed herself back up onto the worktop, holding her arms out to him. He moved forward, finding himself between her thighs once more, but now with her smooth bare skin warmly touching his own hips. She wrapped her arms tightly across his back and held him to her. He let her just rest her head against his chest, her springy hair with its hard hairpins and the angular edges of her glasses pressing against him just above his thumping heart, his own arms wrapped protectively around her shoulders, his hands on the loose cloth of her blouse. His manhood was still solidly upright, pressed to her belly, and he could feel the silk of her knickers against it with continued excitement, but he slowed his breath and calmly waited for her lead.
“This isn’t a game, is it?” she said at last, leaning back to look up at him seriously, her eyes seemingly thoughtful and intellectual under her glasses. “It was an exciting daydream to imagine having sex in the kitchen with a blonde hunk, with that extra naughty thrill to think the neighbour might just pop round and see us at it. But we’re actually doing it, aren’t we? Your penis isn’t a funny little man with his own personality. It’s your cock, aroused and ready to penetrate me, to try inseminating me, to repeat that reproductive cycle that goes back to the dawn of human history, to the dawn of animal life on planet Earth.”
“So have you changed your mind?” Ben asked calmly, still holding her in his arms, “Don’t you want me to, even if we can now? We have the condoms,” he added pragmatically, “I won’t really inseminate you. But we don’t need to rush into it, maybe.”
“No,” she replied firmly, “I do want you, and that’s just it. I really do want you inside me. I want it so much that it’s like I’m not in control, like Mother Nature or something is saying, ‘Finally, girl! You’ve got one where we wanted. Now don’t think about it, just let him do it to you. I can take over the action from here if you’re still fussing about hospitals and lawyers and neighbours and house dust.’ Does that make sense? Oh, I’m sorry, I’m killing the moment.”
“No,” Ben reassured her. Even though he was softening a little, he was still truly gratified to hear that Marcie still wanted to go ahead and have genuine penetrative sex with him. He tried to see if he understood her, saying, “It is the real deal, isn’t it? We’ve been intimate now, we’ve even seen each other come, but this is different. But I think it’s right too. It’s true, our bodies want us to do it, Mother Nature wants us to do it. But we can let them, we can comply with Her. You’d say it’s my penis, little Roddie O, doing the talking. But I’m speaking too, and I’m in control. We’re in control.”
“Yes we are,” she admitted quietly, emphasising, “You are. And you’ve shown great restraint and patience with me. I’ve been winding you up, time and again. Yet even right now, I truly believe that if I asked you to stop, you would. You’d get dressed without complaint and still keep your wonderful positive mood. But we are ready for this, as a couple, as lovers, aren’t we? We can carry on, if you still want to, if you’re still okay with it, here and now?”
“Aye, it’s all good,” Ben assured her, pulling her head to his chest again in that close embrace as he sighed contentedly.
“Well give me some space, then,” Marcie muffled voice playfully ordered. She smiled as he pulled back to look into her twinkling brown eyes again, saying “Let’s have a good smooch, and see if we can’t get things moving again!”
They kissed, slowly at first, wet lips open to each other, Marcie’s fingertips running down Ben’s back from his shoulders to his buttocks. Ben just cradled the back of her head in his hands as their kisses became increasingly hungry. He knew that he’d quickly risen to an upright solid erection again, and Marcie must have felt that as he pressed himself against her. But now he was aware of Marcie wriggling against him too, deliberately pressing the silky fabric of her warm knickers against his penis. He imagined how her vagina may be aroused and lubricated already, and how she may be enjoying the sensation of rubbing her labia against him through the material. He felt a rising urgency to take those knickers off and move on to the next stage before it was too late.
He dropped his hands to her waist, finding her bare skin and the edge of her knickers under the loose edges of her unbuttoned blouse. He leant back a little to see her keen eyes and slightly flushed cheeks. “May I take these off you?” he asked, a little breathlessly, gripping the wide lacy band that ran high over her hips.
“Yes!” she breathed, “Let me help.” Ben was already sinking to his knees between Marcie’s thighs, eager to bring himself closer to her despite the hard floor. She was wriggling her bottom on the kitchen worktop now, helping him to get the thin silky satin free from under her bum as he tugged each side and rolled down the fabric. He saw her bushy pubic hair revealed, then saw the long dark line between her outer lips. He pulled her knickers backwards, over her thighs, leaning way back as Marcie closed them to help. That momentarily hid his view, but he’d already seen her crinkled inner lips nestling within that dark line, looking pink and glossy.
He freed the limp peach knickers from Marcie’s feet and dropped them to the floor, then with a gentle gesture, encouraged her to spread her knees wide again. He relished the intimacy of seeing Marcie’s vulva, her Vixen, like this. It was all so vivid - the dark bushy hair, the creases of her lips, all nestled in the wide bare skin of her thighs and belly, exposed in the afternoon daylight that filled the plain kitchen. Her pale olive skin with her scattered freckles and moles, even here around the most private and intimate part of her body, seemed so simple and natural that it made Ben feel as if she transcended the prurient concepts of sexiness or eroticism. Instead she was simply the living embodiment of womanhood, the reality of an eternal ideal that was the complement to his manhood, his upright fertile energy. And now his simple animal purpose was guiding him, to deliver his sperm somewhere that it could be useful, all in an absolutely natural way.
Yet the thought of those fur coats in Lucy’s wardrobe popped into his mind too. It was absurd, but he imagined being able to push his whole body through that long bushy crease. Marcie had said an artist once called it the origin of the world, but maybe it was also a portal to a new world, the way into a magical realm of fairy creatures and soft-boiled eggs on buttery toast. It was the passage through which life was born, of course, but perhaps this was a gateway for him too, a hidden path to a new life as a mature adult, scarred by his ordeals but wiser now, with Marcie at his side. He thought of her Catholic roots, and almost wished that he knew a prayer that he could whisper, on his knees before this holy chalice, a prayer to some primal goddess of the Earth maybe.
All these ideas flashed through his powerfully stimulated mind in an instant as he instinctively moved forwards on his knees, bringing his mouth to Marcie’s vulva. He brushed her lips with his and inhaled deeply, breathing easily as he luxuriated in the scent of her, of her cwm, of her musky Vixen, strong and potent and primal below the mundane soapy smell of her clean skin.
But Marcie was urgently grabbing the back of his head, trying to pull him up, “No! Not that, not now. Another time. I want you inside me!”
He rose to his feet so that his erection stood up between them, now at absolute wooden rigidity, curving like a thick fleshy bow with its bulbous red head smeared by a bead of his own leaking lubricant. He steadied himself by resting his hands on Marcie’s bare thighs, feeling momentarily dizzy. Then he looked up from her shadowy cleavage, still wrapped in her bra under the loose blouse, into her pleading eyes. “Can we put his rubber hat on quickly?” she asked, her hands still reaching up to the back of his neck.
“Aye,” Ben simply said, then they were both scrabbling for the bag from the chemist’s shop. Marcie got the big box of condoms out first, and Ben quickly unpeeled its cellophane wrap as she held it up to him. He pulled one of the silvery packets out, tore down the perforations that held two condoms together, then handed one half to Marcie as he put the box down with the other stuffed back inside it.
“Oh,” she hesitated, “Could you help?” and Ben wondered at that moment if she really had not been getting as much practice at this as she might have.
He tore the jagged edge, holding the packet the right way up over himself as he squeezed the little slippery circle of latex out. “Could you hold me, hold me up, near the base?” Ben asked vaguely in his urgent anticipation, but Marcie understood. Her delicate hands flew to his shaft, one gripping and holding him upright just as he’d hoped, the other cupped around his scrotum, bringing him a wonderful wave of pleasure. But he deliberately concentrated on pinching the tip of the condom and rolling the thin rubber carefully over his sensitive glans. “Now could you hold my head, please? Gently,” he clarified, and Marcie did indeed put just the lightest of pressure on it with the fingertips of both hands, holding him steady as he quickly rolled the rest of the condom firmly over the full length of his shaft.
“Can I put some gel on you too?” Marcie eagerly asked, and Ben gladly agreed. He watched her, resting his hands on her bare thighs, as she reached out to put her hand on the new tube, got the sticky fluid flowing, squeezed a generous amount onto her fingers, then grasped him in a loose slippery fist. The sensation of her hand’s confident touch was exquisite as she gripped his shaft and rubbed cool gel around, leaving Ben gasping and trembling with excitement. He felt for a moment as if Marcie was treating his penis, his whole body maybe, as one of her toys. Though he doubted it was true, he knew he’d be strangely pleased if she were seeing him like that as she got everything ready for her own selfish pleasure.
“That wasn’t too rough, was it? So can you put it in me now?” Marcie meekly asked as she unselfconsciously wiped her hands on her thighs.
“No. I mean yes!” Ben breathed in eager confusion. Then he brought his own hands to his penis, experimentally pushing his rigidly upright erection down so that the tip of his head brushed Marcie’s tawny pink lips.
“Oh, is this going to work?” she asked anxiously as she dropped her hands to her own glossy labia and parted the dark mouth of her vagina wide, wriggling to the edge of the kitchen top and raising one leg to bring herself onto him.
Ben had momentary doubts himself about the feasibility of their position, but then he felt the delicious warm pressure of Marcie’s soft lips closing around his head and knew they would be okay.
Marcie gasped, still holding herself open for him, as he gently wriggled, feeling himself slip slowly deeper up into her by delicious increments. His own hands were both at the base of his shaft, where they’d been holding himself down and guiding his Roddie into her Vixen. Now he raised them to her face, breathing steadily as he brushed her cheeks, feeling tingling waves of pleasure rising from his penis. He looked into her anxious eyes as she raised them to his, then suddenly her face shone with beaming delight. “You’re really inside, aren’t you?” she gasped, “I can feel you!”
And indeed Ben could feel his full shaft buried within Marcie’s body now, her hot vagina enclosing him in the most perfect gentle grip. “Yes, yes!” he whispered, as he began to slip very slowly and subtly backwards and forwards within her.
Marcie seemed to be gaining confidence that he wasn’t going anywhere. Her hands moved to his hips, and somehow she raised her legs to push herself more firmly against him. Ben glanced down and saw that she’d actually lifted her feet up to the edge of the kitchen sink behind him. Then she began grinding herself against him, setting her own rhythm, which Ben became enslaved to. He stood there firmly, bracing himself with one hand against a cupboard beside her head while his other still cradled Marcie’s crown, fingers tangling in her tight hair. They stared into each other’s eyes, both breathing heavily through their open mouths, perhaps both in wonder at the sensations they shared. Marcie had begun panting in synchronisation to her rhythm, hungrily gasping for air, making small keening noises as she exhaled each lungful. But almost as soon as these small vocalisations had started, she seemed to give into them fully, mouth widening even whilst her eyelids lowered, breathing out with some kind of “aah” sounds, loud and high-pitched, powerfully expressed at each thrust. Meanwhile Ben also heard subtler noises, like a hungry beast’s wet lips slapping together as it eagerly fed, and perhaps in some sense that’s exactly what her Vixen had become.
Ben found that both Marcie’s cries and the organic squelches brought him to a new level of excitement, adding to the tingling pressure that was building in his loins. Impulsively, he reached beneath Marcie’s blouse to hold her breast, his other hand falling to grip her fleshy hip, bracing himself against her own flexing mass now rather than the fixed cupboard. His fingers struggled to get under the lacy trim to her soft warm mound, which he’d been excited to notice subtly bouncing in sympathy with her hips’ pumping motion.
Marcie must have realised what he was trying to do, as she opened her eyes to look pleadingly into his, saying, “Oh yes, you must! Touch me! Ħaqq Alla! Let me,” she paused briefly, whipping her hands up behind her back to unhook her bra, Ben realised.
As her animation momentarily stilled, Ben was suddenly acutely aware of where he was, rigidly aroused and buried deep inside this precious woman, making love at the heart of her home, the sanctuary she’d shared with him. Then he saw her make a half-hearted attempt to slide one bra strap off her shoulder under her blouse, and she was grasping his buttocks firmly in both hands again, pulling him into her as firmly as her strength allowed. He felt her wrap her legs around him, pressing her firm smooth calves against the back of thighs, holding him tight in the luscious snare of her own body. Her eyes were half-closed as she looked down her proud nose at him, her mouth wide to release her high cries of rapture as she found her panting rhythm again. Ben was dizzy with arousal now, yet his gaze was still drawn to her half-revealed breast, now unbound from her bra and moving like liquid in response to her driving rhythm. Ben reverentially reached beneath the bra’s loose cup to brush her nipple, thrilling to feel the nub of soft warm flesh beneath his fingertips.
“Stop, wait!” Marcie suddenly said urgently, freezing. Ben felt his heart lurch, unsure that he could break off now, but Marcie immediately went on, “No, sorry! Don’t worry, carry on!” She resumed her grinding motion against him, but slower now, blowing out big deep breaths rather than her previous urgent cries. She was squeezing his buttocks again, teasing him perhaps unconsciously as she reached beneath him, her fingernails brushing his scrotum, nearly at his anus. All the while, she kept reassuring him, “Just let it flow now. Come home. You’re safe. Relax. Let it go. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Ben looked down at his hand on her breast. The lacy peach cup had fallen aside now, and he could see his fingers stretched across the heavy mass of her shuddering breast, her nipple under his middle fingertip, his other fingers on her wrinkled dusky pink areola. The sight briefly brought to Shona’s breast to his mind, wholly inappropriately he felt. Yet at the same moment he felt profound gratitude toward Marcie, her soft breast becoming a symbol for all her kindness, as she shared her own feminine wellspring of new life with him.
Suddenly, from his mist of sensual pleasure, he realised he’d tipped over the edge. He sighed, then he felt his semen surge out with such a force that it felt as if he’d burst, as if there were a painfully hot fluid ejaculating from his wooden shaft, shooting out somewhere deep inside Marcie’s mysterious body. He groaned and uttered her name, involuntarily gripping her breast and her hip. He was panting heavily himself now as the pulses of his orgasm overtook him, making him insensate to everything but the ecstasy that flowed through him.
Marcie kept gripping his buttocks firmly as he shook, then perhaps as she sensed the waves subsiding, she raised her hands, bringing him shivering delight as she quickly traced her fingernails up his sides and over his own nipples, tangling the gifted necklace briefly in her fingers before cradling his jaw cradled in her hands. Ben let his hands start to imitate hers, but only lifted his big rough palms to her ribs and armpits, which he found deliciously slippery with her copious natural sweat.
Still panting, he stooped towards her face, and she straightened up to reach his lips, relaxing her legs. They kissed tenderly, their tongues brushing each other’s lips, but their movements had consequences. Ben felt his softening shaft slipping out from her warm cosy cwm, and immediately realised that there was nothing to be done about it. They both giggled as they felt it flop out heavily.
“That means my time is up?” Ben murmured, pressing his brow to Marcie’s.
“The ride’s over. Move along quickly now,” Marcie said, giggling, and Ben remembered her fairground analogy.
“Was that a bit too much? Did you want off the rollercoaster for a moment there?”
“Don’t be daft!” Marcie scoffed, “It was amazing! Maybe we could find a more comfortable and leisurely ride next time, but it was one to remember. We don’t have to analyse it though, like a post-mortem. I just had a moment’s panic about being in the kitchen. It all worked out though, didn’t it? But how are you? How’s your breathing?”
Ben took a deliberate deep breath. He realised there was a drag and a wheeze to it, which Marcie could obviously hear too from her worried expression, but he felt fine in himself. “I think it’s okay. You were doing most of the work, I think. Thank you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed again, “You don’t need to thank me. I should thank you, or we should both thank the higher powers that brought us together. I love you, Ben, and this is one key way we can make that love viscerally real.”
“You’re right. You’re so right. And I love you too, count on it,” he said sincerely, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to him firmly, pressing her bare skin and remaining disarrayed clothes against his chest.
“Ooh, don’t squeeze too hard,” Marcie’s muffled voice protested, “I really need a wee! Does it get you that way?”
“No,” Ben admitted with a laugh, “Not yet.” He stepped back and let her hop down, planting her bare feet onto the hard kitchen floor as his hand lingered on her waist.
“Well you can wash your hands and put the kettle on while I’m gone. You’d promised me a cup of tea too!” she teased as she looked over her shoulder, catching Ben looking at her broad naked bottom and strong legs.
“Aye aye, cap’n,” he agreed, grinning sheepishly. He turned away as she disappeared around the door, then dropped his eyes to his penis. It was drooping but still swollen, looking sorry for itself in the stretched limp condom, the tip heavy with his creamy sperm. As he heard the gushing flow from Marcie on the toilet, he tore off a sheet of kitchen roll to catch any drips, then he pulled it gently off. Though it was a bit rough, he used the paper towel to wipe himself down too, before knotting the condom and bundling it up in the used kitchen towel for the bin.
He heard Marcie running the taps of the bathroom, and went to wash his own hands in the kitchen sink. He breathed deeply and deliberately, aware of the rasp, but feeling calm. As he stood there, naked to the world, full of the warm glow that follows truly satisfying sex between passionate lovers, he thought back to the moment of melancholy that he’d felt right here just a few hours earlier. Though she’d stopped him from saying it, he did feel a very deep and profound gratitude to Marcie. She had been his salvation, and he knew that if he stuck with her, she would always help to raise him up again.
He heard Marcie pad up behind him before she gave him a hug, wrapping her arms around his chest, pressing herself against his back. “Showing it off to the neighbours, now?” she asked dreamily, then said, “But seriously, we’d better slip back into our clothes. We can shower before we put something fresh on to go out later. And I still don’t hear that kettle boiling!”