HANDTWO

THE THEATER MIRROR, Boston's LIVE Theater Guide

| MARQUEE | USHER | SEATS | INTERMISSION | CURTAIN |



"HANDSOME IS..." part two

Copyright 1996 by the author, Larry Stark



Good God in Heaven, what an experience!

And I'm so glad I'm writing it all down. Otherwise I might never believe it. I'm not this kind of girl. I don't throw myself at men. I'm not the sort that melts at a man's slightest touch. I'm not a roundheeled pushover so starved for sex she'll come when you whistle and obey your every command!

Well, obviously I was today. He touched: I melted! At least for a while, and I loved every out of control minute of it!

When I opened the door, there he stood, this time not in a suit but chinos and a t-shirt, loafers on his bare feet, grinning down at me. "Good evening, may I come in?"

But he entered without permission, sweeping the door shut and scooping me up into his open-mouthed kiss in one quick motion. I felt his hand on my back pressing me into his long, lean hardness, felt his other hand explore my back, my bum, my thigh, then move up, to pinch the eager heat of one nipple with the base of his thumb.

"Waiting for me, were you? Excellent! It was the full treatment you wanted, wasn't it? Why don't you spread yourself on your bed, then, and we'll just Get To It!"

And I just turned and led the way, stripping off the robe as I went. I rolled myself spread-eagled on the bed and watched him undress. As he shed his shorts I saw he stood long and hard and eager for me, and I was surprised when he paused to don a condom.

"I'm on the pill," I offered.

"But you don't know me," he said. "We really don't know each other. This is the first time I've actually seen you."

He came to the foot of the bed and stood, looking at me. For an instant I shrivelled at the frank appraisal of his gaze. "I'm not too fat, am I?"

He snickered. "Women always think they're fat. No, I was just wondering what to do with you." He reached forward and took the high-arched insteps of my short, wide feet in both hands, curling them till my soles faced each other. "I want to do you like you've never been done before." He ground my helpless soles against the stiff, wiry thrust of his short beard, and I jerked and squirmed and shrieked uncontrollably at the sudden shock.

He bent forward, his shoulders sliding up to my knees, then bent again, until I could feel the weight of his chest pressing my thighs back against my breasts, stretching me open. His hands came up behind me, clasping my shoulders from behind and then, watching himself as he did so, he rammed hard and straight right into me, splitting me, filling me, then using his hands and his knees he pounded solidly, rhythmically, powerfully into me again and again until I groaned and crowed and shouted in ecstacy.

He came as well, and then lay beside me as we sweated and sighed and smiled at one another a while.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked at last.

"No. You don't hurt me at all."

"Well, here," he said, and he turned and gathered me in his arms, dumping me up against his chest, "let's go a little slower this time." His erection rose, entered as I squirmed. " And this way I can use my hands."

I sat and he came all the way up into me, moving slowly, firmly, regularly out and in; and those slow, insistent hands moved over me, over my shoulders and back and bottom, and up around my breasts, and again up to cradle my face down for a kiss.

I smiled, panting. "Everything about you, even your mouth makes love to me."

"Yes, well, there are other things I can devote my mouth to."

With that his open lips closed around my breast and, as he continued rocking slowly out and in, out and into me, his tongue and his lips slowly milked my eager nipple.

"Ooh, yes. And do the other one too! Aaah, yes!"

His lips veiled the sharpness as his teeth opened, biting deeply, gently at me. Then his hands left my shoulders and took both breasts, milking now one, now the other, in rhythm to his firm, steady thrustings meeting mine. He grasped them both and rasped my nipples across his wirey beard and I exploded, feeling him exploding into the very center of my being.

I lay collapsed against his chest, gasping, sweat cooling, trickling along our bodies, feeling him soften inside me, his arms enfolding me, now and again a tentative finger moving, momentously, an exploratory fraction of an inch, coming slowly back into myself. I raised myself, hearing a sweaty suck as our chests parted, and smiled down into his lean, young, smug face smiling back into mine.

"You do good work!" I whispered.

"We aim to please." He gathered me down into a long kiss, and then rolled me beside him. I gasped, unwilling, to feel him slide out of me, as he propped up on an elbow. "Know where we're going Saturday night?" As he asked, his other hand idly played up and down over me, pausing occasionally to caress, to explore.

"Where?"

"I'm going to take you dancing."

I snickered. "I don't know how to dance."

"Then you'll learn. I'm a pretty good teacher."

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

"Besides, I want to show off my new girl to all my friends."

"Oh? And am I your new girl now?" I must be at least five years older than he is, I thought.

He sat up, indignant. "You think I do this with everyone? You think this afternoon was something I'd do with just anybody?"

I sat up, facing him. "But the company had a charge for... "

"I'm 'The Company!' Me!" He smirked. "I just wanted to see how high a number you'd pick."

I smiled, but shook my head. "I've got a heavy date with a manuscript this week-end," I explained, scooping up my robe and belting to prevent a chill.

"Break it. You have a date with me this week-end. We'll go dancing, and then, later... "

I turned, confronting him. "I'll be checking galley-proofs all week-end long!" I frowned. "I don't even know your name."

"Suit yourself!" He snatched up his clothes and furiously began to dress. "It didn't mean a thing to you, did it!"

"Oh, it did!" I pleaded. "Of course it did." I shrugged. "But it's to early to say just what."

He jammed his feet into his shoes and stood glaring down at me. "Well, it meant something to me!"

And the door slammed and he was gone.

Everything was so sudden, so unlike anything that had ever happened to me before. I wandered about, wondering if I'd been a fool, wondering if I had just dreamed it all out of too much work and no man in my life for such a long time. Then I spied the spent condoms on the wrinkled counterpane.

And at that moment the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"You have my number. You've got the kind of feet my company could handle for a very special rate!" Then the phone went dead.

And I laughed my head off, took a cool shower, and went to sleep. I wrote this just after dawn, wondering if it had been a wet dream, and then read over what I had written the night before. I'm not sure what it was --- but it wasn't just dream!
(Click here to read "Part One")


1,277 words


I hope you like what you see.

Love,

===Anon.


You want
MORE Stories?
Click Here!


Once you've read my stories, please send your thoughts about them to me at larry@theatermirror.com or call
1(617)524-1768.


THE THEATER MIRROR, Boston's LIVE Theater Guide

| MARQUEE | USHER | SEATS | INTERMISSION | CURTAIN |