on his upper arm and used his now-free hand to draw her hair from the comb that held it. “I’ll run my fingers through your deep red hair, both here on your head and between your legs.”
Jessica tried to draw air into her lungs, but she could only tremble and respond to Eric’s touch. The rhythmic pressure of his hand between her legs was becoming almost torture. She wanted him inside of her, to fill her and satisfy the unending hunger he was creating. “Oh Eric,” she whispered.
“You’ll be so wet and slippery that I’ll want to slide my fingers into your body. Maybe one finger, deep inside, maybe two or even three, filling you completely. And you’ll be moving your hips, trying to capture my fingers, pull them in deeper.”
As he rubbed her body through her jeans, Jessica felt the pressure build somewhere deep inside and flow through her groin and thighs. It grew hotter and hotter, like a fire consuming, yet not satisfying. “So good,” she moaned.
Eric placed Jessica’s hand over his between her legs. “Feel me rubbing you.”
She rested her hand against his and felt the movement of his fingers. “Oh God.”
“I’ll keep stroking you until you want me more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life. My cock will be so hard that it will hurt, but I’ll wait until I feel your muscles tense and your back arch like it is now. Yes, baby, let it go. Come for me, baby. Do it.”
The fire inside of Jessica’s belly smoldered into life. She ignited hot and white, flames roaring in her ears. As she started to moan, Eric covered her mouth with his own, filling himself with her climax. Despite her writhing, Eric managed to keep his fingers between her legs, draining her of the remnants of her orgasm, drawing the final notes from her now-quieting body.
“Oh my God,” Jessica breathed, shaking her head in amazement. “Never….”
Eric grinned. “Never what?”
“Never before like that.” She tried to catch her breath.
His eyes widened. “You mean no one’s ever touched you like that. Your husband never….”
Jessica reached up and pressed her fingers over Eric’s lips. “I’ve never climaxed like that before.” As he started to ask more questions, she kept his lips still with her finger. “Give me a sip of coffee and I’ll try to explain. Let me catch my breath.”
Eric poured Jessica another cup of coffee, then cooled and diluted it with lots of milk. She took the cup in a still-trembling hand and drank the contents. Then she dropped back onto the blanket. “Rob and I were into very simple sex. He loved my breasts. He said they got him hot just thinking about them. When he wanted to make love, which was two or three times a week, although much less frequently toward the end, he’d take off my pajama tops, suckle until he was excited and hard, then we’d do it. You know, missionary position.”
“Nothing creative?”
Jessica chuckled. “Being creative wasn’t Rob’s strong suit. And I didn’t know any better. Until now.”
A grin split Eric’s face. He’d done it for her. “Oh, Jessica. Making love to you is so good.”
“It will be.”
“It was. What do you think we just did? That was making love just as surely as fucking is. Making love is sharing all the sexual pleasures we can. And there are so many.”
Eric became aware that the air was silent. No music. He sat up and looked around. Clusters of people were ambling toward the parking lot. He glanced at his watch. “Good grief, it’s almost midnight. Time to get Cinderella back to her castle.”
Together they packed the remains of the fruit, wine, and coffee in the hamper, folded the blanket, and placed it on top of the lid. Eric and Jessica each took a handle and they walked back to the car in silence, through the soft summer evening.
When Eric dropped her off at Steph’s house, Jessica said, “I don’t know what to say, Eric.”
“I’d like to invite you to my house, but you need to make a decision before then. In the light of day and with a clear understanding of what it means.”
“And what does it mean?”
“It means that I want to share some wonderful pleasures with you. I want to make love to you for several hours, then relax and make love again. It doesn’t necessarily mean that I want to spend the rest of my life with you or that I want to be with you and you alone. That’s very important. I like you and I want to fuck you until we’re both exhausted.”
“It’s hard for me to grasp. Sex for the fun of it. Like tonight.”
“Sex for the fun of it.” He thought about it. “That’s exactly right. Sex for the fun of it. Think about it, Jessica. I’ll call you in a few days.”
“I won’t be able to think of much else.”
Eric leaned across the gearshift lever and placed a soft kiss on Jessica’s mouth. “Good night, sexy lady.”
“Good night, Eric.”
In her room, Jessica stripped off her clothes and climbed into bed. Sleep, however, was impossible. She lectured herself all night.
Sport fucking, she told herself. That’s all it is. Fucking because it feels good seems so…sinful. But yet so wonderful. For once, my sexual world is filled with light and pleasure.
Am I in love with Eric? No, she argued, I’m not. Would it make it easier if I believed that I were? Yes. And no. I’m infatuated. That’s what it is, and it feels good. And I want more of his lovemaking. It’s like I have a new toy and I want to play with it.
And what’s wrong with that.
By morning, she had debated, argued, vacillated, and finally arrived at the conclusion that she wanted to make love with Eric just because it would feel good. And, for once in her life she was going to do something for herself, just because she wanted to.
Steph and Brian were out for the day and Jessica needed an outlet for her new feelings of freedom. She called a rental car company that specialized in sports cars and asked them to deliver a tiny red Alfa Romeo convertible. When the rental agent asked how long she’d be keeping the car, she told them that she had no idea. “Just give me the weekly rate for two weeks and I’ll call a few days before the end of the second week and let you know.” She gave them her credit card number and hung up.
Two hours later, when the man arrived with her car, she drove him back to the agency, then put the convertible top down, pulled the rubber band from her hair and spent the rest of the morning driving around Westchester County. With the radio turned up loud and the wind in her hair, she felt fifteen years younger than her thirty-six years.
She drove to the Bronx Botanical Gardens and wandered the grounds, stopping to smell the flowers. She ate a hot dog at the Old Snuff Mill, then, realizing she was starving, ordered and ate another, this one smothered in sauerkraut and pickle relish. She drove up to the Bear Mountain Bridge, found a place to park at the Westchester end and walked across and back.
On her way home late that afternoon, she stopped at a delicatessen and picked up a pastrami sandwich with cole
