Sail to the Sun Ch. 08

I came quickly.

"That's OK," Reardon whispered into the receiver. "That's fine. That shows how much you want him. Now a fuck, I think."

Buddy had an elaborate idea how to achieve this one word. He grabbed the pillow off the top of the lounger and moved it under the small of my back and rolled my hips up. Then he started kissing me on the inner thighs and tonguing and licking my balls. He had a finger from each hand at my entrance and was rubbing that and slowly inserting his fingers and pulling my entrance open—all caught on close-up when he pulled his face away from my balls and started kissing and lick and nipping at my inner thighs and up onto my rolled-up butt cheeks. I was moaning and begging him to fuck me by now—for real, no acting needed. And then I lurched and gasped as his tongue moved between the fingers spreading my hole.

I was open to him, which was a good thing. Because suddenly, swiftly, making Reardon and the cameramen gasp as well, Buddy raised his body up and grabbed my hips in his hands, and, maintaining a three-quarter stance that gave the cameras a good angle shot, slammed his dick up into my channel viciously and brutally and began to pump me hard and deep. As could be expected, I flailed around and cried out and writhed under him. He was holding me tightly at the hips and slamming me again and again on his cock, rearing back with his pelvis until his cock was almost entirely unsheathed and then slamming it back in me. Again and again and again as I flopped around and cried out in shock and passion.

"Oh, God, that's good. That's golden. Fuck the sweetness; the shock transition will have them humping each other in the aisles," Reardon murmured with an excited voice through the receivers. "God, this has got to go feature. More time. We'll take a break after this, but more time."

Buddy was fucking me furiously, and then, like a clock winding down, he slowly moved into a languid, deep fuck, pushing me up onto the chaise and following me and covering my body with his. Searching for my lips with his. Finding them. I encircled his torso with my arms and held him close to me. I wrapped my legs around the small of his waist, and I started moving my pelvis with the rhythm of his fuck. Showing Reardon just how close we could be as lovers. At the last minute Buddy turned to the side and, pulling out of me, arced his globby white cum across my thigh for the cameras to see.

Reardon told us we could take a break while they loaded the cameras with more film—that he was very pleased and wanted to make this a longer feature.

But Buddy said we'd stay in the embrace, that if it was OK, he'd go from slow to fast this time, and when the cameras started up again we'd already be in play.

Reardon said that would be fine. That would be great—that he wondered if Buddy was already a porn star and just hadn't told him.

Buddy slow fucked me from behind, with our bodies stretched out and my thigh laying on top of his. He leaned his lips into my ear and kissed my lobe and took it into his mouth and nibbled on it for a moment.

"Don't speak," he murmured "I've come to take you away. I know you thought I'd deserted you. But I went to Virginia, to northern Virginia. To get a job there and someplace we could live. When I came back you were gone. It took me a long time to find out where you were. And then this was ideal. Do you want me? Do you want me like this? Like this, every night?"

"Yes. Oh, god yes," I whispered. I moved my hand down to his cock, which was slow pumping me now, half exposed. And I stroked the cock with my fingers. I understood now. Being with him would be an adventure. There would be romantic times but also wild times and surprises. Perhaps that was what freedom was like. Perhaps that was truly sailing to the sun.

But a cloud of doubt wafted between me and the sun.

"Hoagie."

"Don't worry about Hoagie. Someone reported the illegal immigrants to the Feds. And then there was a question of some missing ones. I don't think Hoagie will be thinking about you."

"Reardon. He owns . . ."

"No one owns you. The door to this place isn't locked. I'll be just down the road, waiting. Just walk out. To me. If you come with me, I won't own you either. You will be there only as long as you want."

I sighed and we kissed.

The renewed fuck started slow, languid, from our current position. But before Buddy was finished, I had been taken like a dog on the sandy floor, and from above, upside down, while my shoulders were supported on the floor and Buddy was standing over me, holding my legs out and jackhammering down into my channel. At his final cry of release, he brought his cock out and showed a first flowing of semen, but then he slammed it back deep inside me and gave me two lurching flowings that were all my own.

Reardon couldn't have been more pleased. He paid us both with bills he just kept peeling off a roll of money he'd taken from his pocket and then he was off, looking for his wife and Wade to celebrate.

Fifteen minutes after he left, I moved to the front door; I'd showered and dressed in my best clothes and retrieved my nest egg from its hiding place. I could hear the Reardons in the great room, just beyond the foyer, with Reardon telling his wife and son how well the shoot went that day, how much money he expected to gross off it.

I reached for the door knob and clicked the door open. I sensed I wasn't alone and turned to find that Frankie had come to the kitchen doorway. He looked from me toward the great room and then back at me. Then he smiled and disappeared back into the kitchen, as I opened the door to the first free day of my life—my spirit already sailing over the sun.