Ambiguities

"Donald Mayer, don't you dare!!! Lie down! On your tummy!" Donald, almost startled, did so. And Fiona wasted no time drilling her clit into him. She just took a second to add gel to her diddies and proceeded to ride him to Nirvana. She was just the right stature to fuck him doggie-style and diddie-massage his back in the same motion; she had limitless amounts of love to give and plenty of stamina to spare. She took hold on his shoulders with such strength that there would be marks later, but Fiona was too busy professing her love to notice.

"Donnie, baby, listen to me! I know I'm pretty when I'm with you! I'm fucking hot in bed with you! I'm happy with you! And I'm never letting you go! You promised... now, so do I! I'm yours... and you're all mine! I love you... I'm in love with you... I love fucking you! And we're not stopping... until our bodies give up! You showed me the way... now we walk the path! Together! So... CUMMM! Cum for meee!"

Donald was whimpering in falsetto... and that was through a pillow! He came once, twice... he could barely catch his breath between rising tides of bliss. And Fiona stayed hard as a rock inside him. By his third orgasm, she was hearing sniffles into his muffled screams. At that moment, she had a flashback, a recollection of all the times she frowned in shame at seeing former lovers recoil, or worse, after lowering her panties, and she laughed inwardly: if only they could see her now! Right now, she was proud... heck, she was a Goddess! A Goddess who was finally loving herself... and rewarding her worshiper with her divine boon.

When Fiona finally reached her limit, she rested on top of him and just remained there, feeling lovingly rocked by the motion of Donald's heavy breathing. It took a warmth on her phallus and her intuition to stir her out of this loving trance; a quick inspection confirmed her worry: there was a red tint on her member and his sphincter. "Follow me, Donnie... come on, now..." and Donald, still witless and catching his breath, followed her to the shower. Repeating from their first encounter, Fiona placed towels and then cared for her patient through the open shower door. The minor lesions sealed quickly under the warm water.

Fiona had no way to be sure, under the shower, but she could swear Donald was crying. With a mild smile of unfettered gratitude, he finally spoke.

"Baby... that... was..."

"I know... and I'm so glad..." she kissed him tenderly, not caring a bit that she was now drenched at his side.

"Chinese... and tea?"

"Tea would be wonderful, baby."

5. The pre-flight checklist

(Who could that be?)

Donald muted the Yankees on the hotel suite's flat screen, tied his bathrobe and walked to the door. He opened to a bleached white Fiona... both in summer apparel and expression.

"Fiona? What..." she ushered herself inside, past him. Then obviously waited for a kiss.

Donald closed the door and, after the welcoming necessities, reiterated. "Fiona, honey... it's good to see you but... you DO know we're getting married tomorrow, right? And how did you get past our mothers?"

She chuckled and she was finally relaxing. "Our loving parents, sweetheart, are playing canasta while the flat screen is broadcasting the Yankees..." she turned her head to glimpse at his own television, then mockingly scorned him with a reproachful look before carrying on "... I don't think they will notice my escape before the ball game is over."

"Well... Amen to that! Two days without you feels like cold turkey withdrawal!" Donald was opening up his robe and walking towards her... then stopped. Something in her worried face warned him that this expedition was not about a stolen tryst or a booty call.

"Donnie... you're as sweet as ever... but... we need to talk..."

(Not again!)

"All right... fire away, then." Both of them sat down and he waited her out. In vain, so far.

"Donnie... this is awful... now I understand how you must have felt... the right words are not coming out, baby..." she was looking down and twitching her thumbs together hard enough for their skin to turn red.

This looked bad. "Fiona... darling... are you having second thoughts?"

Fiona's heart skipped a beat or two. "Maybe... I don't know... Ohhh! I feel so horrible!"

Donald found it in him to stay calm. "Don't do that, honey... let's talk about this. No shame, no sorrow. We're in this together, OK? Can you tell me what brought this up?"

"It's gonna be awkward..."

"It can hardly beat watching you explain karyotyping to our chaplain." He patted her hand and his meek humor soothed her a little. "Just tell me..."

"Your mom... Donnie... this afternoon she was talking about pre-nups and contracts... not to me, though! Don't get mad, honey... but it got me thinking..."

Donald took an angry sigh before cutting in. "Fiona, remember the words of Father Carlisle during our marriage preparation class: matrimony requires work and complicity... and that includes guarding ourselves from family intrusion or interference. Empathy with mom's difficulty of letting me go won't excuse this and I will talk to her..." but he stopped without finishing his thought. This was not their first talk on the matter and it was visibly not helping her. "This is not about mom, this time, is it?"

"I get that you love me, Donnie... and I love you like crazy! But... we never discussed... you know... money, kids, pets..."

"Do you remember our first dance?"

"I do... and I remember what I told you. You already had it all figured out, didn't you? It showed!!! It scared me a little then... I'm terrified now! What do I do?"

"Well... for starters, do you think it's good idea if we double-check tomorrow's vows?" She nodded in assent, still unable to look at him in the eye.

"So... to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse... any problem there? Any doubts? Any possibility of another pussy urge? Or of you falling for a supermodel stud with a monster cock?" Donald knew himself enough to recognize that his banter shielded him from true worries. His senses and his brain were all on overdrive to see, hear and analyze her reply.

"Nooo silly... we've been through that already and I know that I will be quite content at... watching the menu... I can't believe your silly phrase actually helps! But what about you?"

"I don't pretend to even guess how you could be insecure on that front... you're so stunning I can't get my eyes off you! To me, there is NO menu: you're the entire eight-course meal and I will be very happy spending the rest of my days proving it to you."

"Thank you..." she seemed to be awaiting for more.

"All right... for richer, for poorer... is that it? After all, you were talking about pre-nups..."

"I don't want you... or anyone... to think I'm a gold-digger, Donnie. But you've never talked about money... at ALL."

"Fiona... I never talked about it because, to me, there's nothing worth talking about. We are partners through and through, and the 50/50 Christian rule suits me fine. We could even merge our bank accounts in a joint one for all I care... but if you want your own sense of property, that suits me fine also. Fiona, my epitaph will not be HE MANAGED HIS WEALTH... I want it to read LOVING HUSBAND... maybe even AND FATHER if we decide to adopt and we're not turned down. If you think we need more money to achieve our goals, just say the word: numbers are numbers and I could always return to investment banking; there's a ridiculously huge amount of mon..."

"No No! Baby! I love that you're happy at Oliver Wyman... I'm thrilled to see the pride in your eyes when you talk to me about your urban models. And you should go for that PhD in urban studies you've been talking about. I don't recall wanting for anything since I'm with you. Trust me, the money's fine... and let me talk to your mom if she brings this up again, OK? Don't scold her." No. That still wasn't it.

"All right... in sickness and in health, until death do us part... Now THERE'S the rub, isn't it?"

"What?"

"That's where we fail, don't we?"

"Donnie, what..." but he was on a roll now.

"Do you think you're the only one scared shitless? Neither you or I can take life or health for granted... if we do say the words tomorrow, they will have for us the extra significance that everybody else takes for granted. And I, for one, fear that I will only promise you decay and disappointment!"

"Donnie..."

"I cannot win against diabetes, babe... I can only forestall the inevitable. My grandmother had already lost three toes when a heart attack thankfully ended her misery. Why do you think I already avoid impact sports? And my decline could last years! Do you think I want to drag you through that!?! I could become blind one day, you know: lose the precious joy of seeing you sleep, or of ogling when you lower your neckline the way you always do when you want to make sure I jump your bones within the next five minutes!" Donald choked... he was crying. Fiona was petrified.

"Hey... I could also become impotent... can you picture that? Me married to the most beautiful, sensual and sexy erotic woman in the whole wide world, and unable to ... anything... to her! Could you even fathom my shame!?!"

"Or a stroke could turn my brain to pudding! No more talks about cities, no more cuddling, nothing... just a lump of flesh to visit at the hospital! So yeaaa... I get it, Fiona... I really get it! And we're not even talking about what the future holds for YOU... after all, you have ovarian cysts and you've already been on steroids for 21 years, so it's probably not peaches and cream for you too!!! Don't worry, I'll explain to everybody and..."

"Will you SHUT UP!!!" She looked furious.

"How DARE you try to scare me away like that! Donnie... I can't live without you! And one day, I'll ask you to promise that you survive me... because I don't have a clue how I could live a single day with you gone! I will take CARE of you... like I already do when you let me! We are in this crazy life together and we will face everything together, even if my tits shrivel to nothing and menopause makes me a depressed, crazy blimp again! You promised you will never let me go and I WILL hold you to that!!!" She was punching his chest, with some force, repeating "... never let me go..." ad nauseam. Donald just let her: he knew he deserved it.

"Well... baby... what is it, then? Because that was the end of our vows." That stopped her dead in her tracks. Her eyes opened wide. Donald had a meek smile full of hope and was hearing the Star Wars main theme in his head. Fiona was about to experience a revelation... right... now.

"Donnie Mayer! YOU are EXASPERATING!" She jumped him and they fell backwards on the couch. In these moments of released tension, Fiona always felt like a football linebacker instead of a busty sprite, and Donald always let himself happily being tackled by her, with the usual and so-appreciated kisses, pinches, bites and even kicks. Both of them fell to the floor before he sought a truce.

"Sooo... what now, Fiona... are we still getting married tomorrow?"

"You better believe it!!! And wear white underwear!"

"I'm almost afraid to ask..."

"You will cream your briefs the second you see me in my dress!" Back was her wicked smile, her sultry voice... Fiona the horny vamp was now sitting on top on him. And the tiger shark was lowering her neckline, hungrily ogling her sardine. "And, for the record, I don't think for a second you will ever be impotent while under my diddie therapy." She placed his hands on her areolas, then she let her hand slither towards his crotch and extricated Donald's erection from his underwear.

He glimpsed at the flat screen. "And I so much enjoy your diddie therapy, honey. It's a shame that we don't have time for our seven-hours freestyle tonight, though..." her smile morphed into pure satisfaction and she gave him a short kiss; all softness and lust.

"True... BUT, Donnie baby, I believe our short program needs some polishing..." no more words were said.