Justine

I set the keys down on the sideboard and moved towards her, and she towards me, and we clung to each other in that still and silent house. Her arms were tight around my chest and her face buried in my shoulder and I could smell the fragrance of her hair and feel the warmth of her body against mine; and then she turned her face upwards and we kissed.

My first impression was that her lips were incredibly soft. They brushed against mine like a shadow - the lightest of touches, but it was enough to drive away the last vestiges of doubt and we kissed harder. Beneath my lips her mouth opened in supplication and her tongue touched mine, tentatively at first and then more urgently as our passion grew. I could feel the wetness of her tears on my face and it spurred me on to comfort her, to hold her - to take away whatever it was that was causing her pain. I held her face in my hands and I kissed her cheeks and eyes and nose, delighting in the little sounds of contentment she made and the soft press of her breasts against my chest; and I kissed her mouth again, feeling those soft, wet lips opening to receive me.

And then she was pushing me away, staring at me with her dark eyes filled with desire, and she deftly unzipped her dress and stepped out of it as it fell at her feet. Her eyes were on my face, watching me as I regarded her: that glorious, golden body - the narrow curve of her waist accentuating her breasts, surprisingly large on such a slender frame. They nestled in the cups of her bra, each a perfect orb separated by the deep 'V' of her cleavage with the arc of her aureole peeping above the lacy fabric, and the hint of her nipples behind it.

Her panties were small and lacy too, dark against the creamy perfection of her skin; the taut plain of her belly framed by the curve of her waist, her mons prominent against the fabric. And I saw too the perfection of her legs as she stood and watched me: long, satin thighs set slightly apart, slim and shapely.

'Jesus, you're beautiful,' I whispered, 'so beautiful. I want you, Justine.'

'You can have me,' she said, and in three steps she was at the sofa, clambering on the seat with her bottom in the air and her face twisted around to watch as I ripped off my clothes and flung them on the floor beside hers. The drapes were open and almost tore them off the rails in my haste to shut out the outside world, to be with that warm, sinuous body and enter it as quickly as I could.

There was nothing gentle in that first time with Justine, only a raw urgency to take her. My cock was as hard as a stick, the foreskin rolled back and the head like an arrow, and I pulled aside the gusset of her panties and plunged through the swollen lips of her sex in a single delicious thrust, until the hard little cheeks of her bottom arrested me. She uttered a single groan, almost like an animal in pain, and her fingers grasped the cushions to steady herself; and then I was fucking her with long, delicious strokes back and forth, back and forth; burying myself as deeply as I could into that beautiful golden body.

Her cunt was spectacularly tight. I could feel its silken embrace along the length of my shaft as I drilled her, the flesh tight and warm and wet. With each withdrawal the rim of my cock appeared, breaking the tight seal of her vulva with a little sucking sound and an ooze of white juice, and the intensity of my thrusts churned it to a ring of froth at the point of our union.

Justine clung to the sofa for dear life, her knuckles white and her legs askew as I plunged into her. She was grunting - a guttural expiration of her breath with every thrust into her body, and her voice was broken and urgent.

'Jesus Paul - ugh! Christ...ah, ah. That's it! Fuck, fuck, that's it...ugh! Harder!'

Her words spurred me on and I seized her hips and thrust faster into that thrumming little body. And as I fucked her I remembered the first time she'd stood on our doorstep with her shining brown eyes and pouting lips; and how she'd moved as she walked into our lounge: the sway of her hips, the roll of that tight little butt. I'd wanted her even then but it was a frivolous, empty dream -a fantasy I'd played in my mind from time to time. And tonight should have been no different - me coming home, thanking her with a smile and a few dollars for looking after Emma; leaving me to dream how she might feel beneath me.

But things had changed with bewildering speed and here I was, balls deep inside Justine's delicious little snatch, delighting in the tightness of her pussy and the breathless sound of her fractured voice spurring me on.

'Christ...yes...yes...ugh! Fuck me deep, Paul! Ugh! Jesus God, you're right inside me...ah, I can...aaah...feel it in my belly.'

Her words triggered the image of my shaft inside her. Levering aside the tight wet walls of her cunt, touching the cone of her cervix as I bottomed out. I could see her vulva stretched around the root of my cock as tight as a banjo string, see the rim of cream and the shine of her juices as I withdrew. I grasped her buttocks and drew them apart, watching how her rosebud bulged outwards with every thrust. I saw how slender she was, how my hands spanned each cheek, and in my mind's eye I imagined how far into her body my cock had reached.

The image was enough to trip me over the edge and I came. A first powerful jet, hosing into the tight cloying channel of her cunt; and then another, and a third. Somewhere in the distance I could hear her crying out as my seed blasted into her, and I could feel her sex milking me in tight little contractions. It seemed to go on forever - a fourth jet, and a fifth, each as intense as the last. Her face was buried in the back of the sofa and I could hear the muffled cries of her own orgasm as she came, see her hands gripping the fabric as if to tear it off the cushion; and then a sixth and seventh jet spraying into that wriggling little body until at last my balls were empty and I was done.

For a while we were still, my cock embedded in her and our breathing gradually returning to normal. I could feel wetness around my balls as my sperm oozed from around my softening shaft, and I felt her fingers reaching up to wipe the inside of her thighs.

'You're heavy, Paul,' she said at length. I was lying half across her back and her face was scrunched into the crack between the sofa cushions.

I stood up and she scrambled to her feet and we regarded each other for a few moments. The suddenness of what had just happened was evident in her eyes and there was trepidation too, now the wind of raw passion was past.

I cupped her face in my hands. 'That was amazing. You are amazing, Justine. Will you stay with me tonight?'

'What about Nikky?'

I shook my head. There hadn't even been time to tell her what had happened. 'She's fine, but won't be coming home tonight ...but I need to -'

'And I need to go to the loo,' she interrupted. 'There's lots of, um...leakage going on down there and I'll ruin the carpet if I stand here any longer.' She leaned forward and briefly pressed her lips to mine. 'Hold whatever thought you had just then. I'll be back.'

I couldn't bring myself to take Justine to our bed and so we lay in the spare one, talking. She was pressed against me, her head nestling into my shoulder and I could smell the sea-salt tang of her hair against my face.

'Why were you crying when I came home?' I asked.

'Because I lost my mother today.'

'Jesus! I'm so sorry, Justine. How did it happen?'

'I don't mean she died. I mean that I finally realised that I couldn't stay with her a moment longer.' She twisted her face round to look at mine. 'I've never told you what's going on there, have I?'

'No.'

'Well I'll spare you the miserable details, but suffice to say that she's an alcoholic. She's also a control freak who'd have sucked the rest of my life away in a haze of booze and bitterness if I let her. I guess it's been heading this way for a while, Paul, but this morning I finally told her I was going.'

'Going where?'

'Going. Just going. Leaving that rat-hole I called home. Going to -' she paused for a moment. 'Shit, I don't know! I had nowhere to go. I was actually on my way here to ask if I could do free babysitting for a couple of days until I found something.' She laughed softly. 'I never thought this would happen.'

'Nor me, but I'm glad it did. You know I'm ready to listen whenever you want to tell me more.'

'You're very sweet.' She leaned up and kissed me, her lips lingering on mine. 'So how is Nikky?'

I told her about the accident and she listened quietly, her hand in mine. 'That's awful,' she said, I'm so sorry, Paul.'

'Do you think you'll be able to stay for a few days? I can't afford to take time off work and I'll need to visit Nikky too.'

'Of course. But won't she mind? I mean, it's one thing staying over when she's here, but when she's not -' her voice trailed off. 'Well, you know, she may not like the idea of me being around when she's not here, that's all.'

'In case I fuck you, you mean?'

'Well, yes,' she giggled briefly. 'But I guess it's a bit late to worry about that, isn't it?'

I almost told her then my suspicions about Nikky, but I didn't. The relationship between my wife and I was our business, and it would have sounded like a cheap excuse for what I'd just done to her. Besides, I was beginning to think I'd have found a way to have Justine whatever was happening in our marriage. There was a powerful sensuality about her which, together with her sense of vulnerability, made her irresistible.

The length of her body was pressed against me, one leg resting over my thigh. Her skin was a shade darker than mine but there was no bikini line so it was probably natural rather than from the sun. Maybe somewhere from the past there was exotic blood in her veins? It would explain that delicious café-au-laid skin and the brown eyes and black hair, and perhaps her posture, too: straight and tall and proud, despite her mother's attempts to drag her down. Genetics would have played a part in this stunning girl's looks but it was also clear that she'd won the lottery when it came to how it all fitted together; and she was mine - at least for tonight. The knowledge that I could have her again was exhilarating.

'What?' she asked suddenly.

'I didn't say anything.'

'You didn't have to - I felt it. The texture of your skin changed, and -' she glanced down at my belly '- something else is changing too.'

It was true. My cock, which had been dormant after our lovemaking, was rapidly growing hard.

Justine watched as it grew from flaccidity to a state of rampant anticipation, and she laughed in delight.

'So what brought that on all of a sudden?' she asked.

'You did.'

'But why at that moment? What made you suddenly horny like that?

I shrugged. 'I was looking at you and I liked what I saw.'

'You've looked at me before. Did the same thing happen then? There was mischief in her voice.

'I've never really been able to look at you, Justine. I mean, not properly. Either Nikky was there or it was too dark in the car, or I thought I'd freak you out.'

'Freak me out?! How do you figure that?'

'I remember when I first saw you, standing on our doorstep. I couldn't take my eyes off you and you blushed crimson. Staring at people does that.'

Justine shook her head. 'I wasn't blushing because you were looking at me. I was blushing because I was suddenly confronted by an attractive guy and my ovaries started playing ping-pong with each other.' She lifted her hand to grasp my shaft. 'So aside from looking, what else turns you on?'

'That does.'

'Really? What about this?' She began to move her hand in a gentle rhythmic movement.

'Yep, that works too.'

'And, what about this?' She bent her head and I felt the warmth of her mouth envelop me.

'Ah, God...yes! That's working as well.'

She lifted her mouth from me. 'Teach me how to do this.'

'Kneel beside me then - now, take my cock in your right hand and lift it...that's right, so it's pointing up towards your face. Now, take the tip between your lips - ah...gently! You're working with a precision instrument here, not a hot dog! Gently - purse your lips and just rest them on the tip...that's it. Plenty of spit, too.' I watched as she bent to her task. 'Now, press down. Keep a little bit of tension on your lips...that's it...let the head pop into your mouth.'

Justine lifted her face. 'I can taste myself on you.'

'It tastes delicious then.'

She bent to her task and I watched, coaching all the while. Teaching her how to use the inside of her cheeks and the tension of her lips; instructing on the cadence and depth and the grip of her hand holding the shaft. The lamplight painted her skin golden and her hair swung around her face as she worked on me.

'I can feel you spurting,' she said, lifting her head clear of my prick.

'Not yet. That's just my lubrication - just like you make juice too. Can you taste it?'

'Not really. It's just sort of warm and oily.'

'That's right. Look - there's some now.' A bead of juice oozed from the hole in my cock and began to dribble over the head, and Justine bent to capture it on her tongue. A strand of sliver connected us for a second and she laughed in delight.

I don't know how long she knelt there beside me, sliding my prick into her mouth, but it felt like an hour. Twice I felt cum boiling in my balls and I gasped for her to stop, to squeeze the shaft tightly until it was passed; and then she bent forward again, her lips opening to take me back inside and those bright eyes watching my face to gauge my pleasure.

At last I could take no more and I rolled her on her back. Just looking at her sex was enough to get your mouth watering - nestling at the juncture of those slim golden thighs with its fat little lips pursed in anticipation. They were a delicate shell-pink and shining in the lamplight with her juices, and were crowned with a wisp of hair as fine as spun flax. It looked as sweet as a box of candy and so I knelt between her thighs and ate it. She told me later that it was the first time a guy had done that - God knows what her useless boyfriend had been up to, but I can tell you he missed a rare treat.

I gave her the works that night. I used every trick I could think of and then some, and she responded like a champ. Her hands were in my hair guiding me, trying to drag me forward as I flicked my tongue lightly over those quivering lips and hold me back as I plunged it as far into her wriggling little body as I could. She was moist when I started and like a river by the time I'd finished, with the sheets stained by her cream and smears of juice on her thighs almost to the knee, and my ears felt they'd been torn off by the grasp of her frantic fingers. By then she was begging me to stop and so I climbed aboard.

Slowly, and with infinite care, I fucked Justine Mayfield for the second time that night. The first time it had been primeval - a need to take her as quickly as I could, but now there was time to enjoy every moment: the exquisite sensation as I crowned into her; the sucking warmth of her pussy as I slid deeper, inch by inch; the roll of her hips as she lifted her legs to accommodate me; the warm odour of her sex, tainted with the sharper scent of my sperm already within it; and the sound of her breath leaving her lungs as my cock reached up towards her belly.

And at last I bottomed out, buried as far as I could go with her cunt gripping me like a velvet fist and our juices dripping over my balls. For a long time we held ourselves still, each enjoying the sensation of being joined, and then I began to thrust into her with long, gliding strokes.

I'd like to say that I fucked her for an hour or more but it wasn't that long. It didn't need to be, for every second was exquisite. And it wasn't just the amazing feeling of my cock sliding back and forth inside her - it was so much more than that. For the first time in my life I felt as one with the body moving under me. Through the touch of her hands I could feel our hearts beating in synchronicity; the blood coursing through our veins in concert. Her sighs and gasps of pleasure echoed mine; and where we touched our flesh seemed to meld. It was as if I could feel what she felt: the glide of that thick shaft into her body, the incredible sensation of being filled, the ebb and flow of her pleasure as the angle of my thrusts changed. And in those shining brown eyes I saw a reflection of the need for tenderness in a bruising world, and the fear of being alone.

They say that slow orgasms are the best, and it is true. The tingling in my shaft started gradually and grew like a silver bubble in my brain, feeding upon the clasp of her flesh and the wet sounds of our coupling. She came twice while I was inside her and it was all that I could do to hold back as her pussy seized me in an iron grip and her nails raked my back: and all the while my climax expanded, a spinning vortex of pleasure that carried me inexorably towards a razor's edge, until that infinitesimal moment poised on the brink of darkness shot through with pinpricks of thin white light.

'I'm going to cum,' I gasped. 'Oh, Jesus! It's coming...I can't stop -'

'Do it!' Justine's voice was low and urgent. 'I want you to cum inside me.'

For a second longer I teetered on the brink of that black void, and then with a strangled cry I unleashed my sperm into her wriggling body.

Justine seized my buttocks and her pussy worked me like a whore's mouth. Each contraction drew another spurt to paint the walls of her cunt, bathing her cervix in a milky pool and entering her womb in strands of living seed. It filled the writhing tube around my shaft and drooled from the lips of her pussy to stain the sheets below us.

I felt her grasp my buttocks with desperate hands to hold me deep, her pelvic muscles working to milk every drop she could, and I heard her tremulous voice as I hosed my sperm inside her. 'Jesus, Paul...ah, yes, yes! I can feel it! That's it...fill me up, fill me up.'

And then it was over and I was still, my cheek pressed against hers and my cock buried deep in her trembling body. She lifted one hand and caressed my head, her fingers in my hair, and I felt the hot tide of her tears on my face.

'I love you,' she whispered. 'I love you so much.'

'And I love you too,' I said, and I held her tight and listened to the beating of her heart, and I wondered if it was true.

*****

Justine was still asleep when I rose, her lashes thick and dark upon her cheeks and her lips curled in a small smile. One breast peeped over the sheet, the nipple dark and distended, and beneath the covers the curve of her hip reminded me of how she had felt the night before. We'd woken once in the darkness of the night and fucked again, a silent coupling born of a mutual need to fill and be filled; and I'd spurted the last vestiges of my seed into her before falling into an exhausted sleep.

Emma was in her cot and she laughed when she saw me, her golden curls a reminder of Nikky. I picked her up and carried her though to the kitchen, my mind on the problems last night had caused.

In the cold light of day the passion that had driven me had been tempered with reality. Justine was amazing, that was for sure, but what did I know of her? Only what she had chosen to tell me, and that was little enough. And she was ten years younger than me - not that much in the scheme of things, but still a chasm between us. She was a teenager on the cusp of her life, and I was a married man with a child. She had yet to finish her adolescence - to go to dances, to date and hold hands, to find and lose love and to grow and mature; whilst I had done those things years ago. Her education was not yet finished and her knowledge of life incomplete - so how could we possibly be compatible? And even if we were, did I want it? Lust was a fickle friend and in six months the chances were that Justine would be looking over my shoulder for a younger guy.