Death By Fucking Ch. 19

I heard her mumble “you’re going to get it now.”

Her clothes went flying. I’ll admit I was already hard. I’m rarely in close proximity to either Deirdre or Donnie without being hard. It’s some kind of syndrome I have, I guess. There is only one cure. Donnie looked like she intended to apply the cure immediately.

She was naked. It’s hard to describe how beautiful she is without clothes. Her body mesmerizes me. I can’t take my eyes off of her. She is so small. After three kids she still weighs her standard 110 pounds. But where one might expect to see bones or sharp angles, there is only softness and curves. Her skin is like silk, soft and sultry.

But tonight she wouldn’t let me drink in her beauty. She climbed on top of me so that she was perched directly above my dick. She grabbed it so hard I winced, moved it till she found her entrance and then in one stroke fully impaled herself on my hardness.

She screamed on the way down, then pulled back and began slamming herself up and down my cock. She was still angry. As she gasped for breath and moaned her arousal, she began to curse me out.

“You son of a bitch, don’t you ever look at another woman again! Do you hear me? Oh God! Never! You are mine you bastard. Oh, fuck!”

As she humped me she began to beat my chest with her little fists. She had become a crazy woman. She was fucking and hitting, hitting and fucking. I couldn’t help it. I laughed. She was just so damn cute.

I reached up and pulled her toward me, letting her ride my dick but holding her at the same time. I kissed her gently then began stroking her hair, pulling her face to my chest.

Donnie’s movements became more erratic as she neared her completion. I was somewhere between hot and confused. Suddenly she sat up straight and ground her pussy down on my pubic bone. Her mouth was open but her eyes were closed. Her face was a mixture of pain, pleasure, anguish and passion as she moaned through her fulfillment.

And then it was over. Donnie collapsed on my chest. She lay there, still impaled on my dick. Her arms were around me and her cheek was pressed to my chest.

Then she began to cry. Her emotions were a mess. The poor thing’s body was wracked by sobbing. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but have you ever been buried deeply in the pussy of a beautiful blonde and tried to maintain your composure while her body vibrated on your dick? It’s well nigh impossible.

Still, I tried to console her as she came down from whatever high she was on. I know enough about women to understand that we were going to have to talk this whole thing out before I could hope to get any relief.

Donnie said, “I’m so horrible! Oh, Andrew how can you stand me? I do awful things. And then I blame you.”

I patted her head and said, “It’s alright, baby. Everything’s alright. I am to blame for this.”

That wasn’t a good idea. Still crying she popped her head up and said, “Will you stop being such a wimp!? I created this mess, not you.”

It was obvious she wasn’t going to let me accept responsibility as a means to end the discussion, even though I was perfectly willing to do so. Somehow I was going to be blamed for it in the end anyway. Why couldn’t we circumvent all the angst in the middle and go right to the conclusion of the conversation? But she wanted to talk it through. How like a woman.

She said, “How can you stand to be with me? You’re so young and I’m so old.”

Okay, now we’re getting to the root of the problem. Age insecurity strikes again.

I said, “Donnie, we’ve been through this over and over again. You’re an ageless, timeless goddess. Our age difference means nothing.”

She wasn’t buying what I was selling. “Maybe it wasn’t so bad when we first started out. But now I’m into middle age and you are still a young man. Andrew, I’m forty-four years old. That’s middle aged. How can you still love me?”

I said, “You are looking at this all wrong, Donnie. From a certain point of view we are closer in age than we were nine years ago.”

She stopped crying and blinked. I could see she was interested in listening to the convoluted logic that I would use to prove that statement.

She sniffed, “What do you mean?”

I said, “When I was twenty-five, you were 40% older than me. But now that I’m thirty-four you’re less than 30% older than me. The older we get, the proportionally closer we get in age. It’s simple mathematics.”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out. I think I had successfully diverted her from her original line of thought.

She said, “Andrew, you think things that no one else has ever thought. You think things that no one else has ever thought of thinking. I love you, sweetie, but you are thoroughly strange.”

I tried to defend myself. “I’m just an average, normal guy.”

She shook her head. ‘You’re not average and you are far from normal. Yes you come wrapped in that beautiful package. But it’s easy to see how the children have turned out the way they have. You have a touch of strangeness and they inherited it.”

She did it again! She started out with this mea culpa but now the focus of the discussion was no longer her but me. How do women do that?

I said, “I don’t know what the heck you are talking about.”

She said, “You do statistical analyses of card distribution in computer solitaire games because you think the computer is cheating you. Average people would assume you are just being paranoid, but then you prove you are right! Average people wouldn’t notice the problem in the first place.”

“You buy paintings of old farm women and then attach the body of playboy centerfolds to their heads. You have theories about subjects that normal people don’t even recognize as subjects, let alone have theories about.”

“You love women who are ten years older than you are. You refuse to acknowledge that the age difference means anything. You are absolutely the most peculiar man I’ve ever met.”

I figured I could ignore all the other stuff. Anybody would see the things I think about and do and theorize about are perfectly ordinary things. Nothing strange going on there. Her real problem comes back to the age difference.

“Donnie, let’s get past this, could we? You are one of the most alluring women in the world. You’ve heard me say it a million times, but now the whole country acknowledges it. You are half of one of the twenty sexiest women in America. When will you admit it to yourself?”

“Oh, Andrew, you know that Dee Dee and I are only basking in your reflected glory.”

“My reflected glory? Are you nuts? I’m a guy who is famous for fucking women I don’t know and don’t want to fuck. What kind of glory is that? Only in America, baby.”

“How you can worry about me loving you or finding you attractive just boggles my mind. You are a walking incitement to riot.”

I latched onto Donnie’s nipple with my mouth and rammed my dick deep within her. I heard her gasp. If I can’t talk her out of this funk, I’ll fuck her out of it. One good thing has come of having all these women. I’m not world famous because I’m bad in bed.

We went from a standing start to fucking like mad minks in the space of a few seconds. I was horny, upset, angry, relieved, embarrassed, and a bunch of other emotions I couldn’t sort out. Donnie surely felt similar if not matching emotions. We needed to cleanse our souls the old fashioned way.

She said, “Oh, Andrew. This is what I need from you right now. Love me, sweetie. Make love to me.”

Her arms went around my back, her legs circled my hips. We needed to establish who belonged to whom. I’ve felt it but I’ve never told her. I’m not a sexist. I’m not a male chauvinist pig. But I just can’t share her. I’m not that sophisticated.

As I rammed into her harder with every stroke I began to talk. My arms enveloped her and we pulled each other tightly together.

“You belong to me, Donnie, only me. We belong together. I’ll love you. I’ll take care of you. But you belong to only me.”

She smiled that warm mellow smile of hers even as I was fucking her senseless. We brought our lips together and she gave me one of those soul kisses that drive every thought from your head.

She said, “Andrew, these are the arms I want to die in”.