Love in the Age of Chemicals Ch. 02

Miranda jumped in and said, "Oh, he wrote the sweetest things to me for Thanksgiving. He said..."

Jeanine cut her off, insisting, "Let the boy answer for himself, honey. Every man should be given the chance to brag about his wife to others."

I took my time swallowing the bite I had just taken. Looking around the table, I saw Miranda's panicked expression. I saw Thomas force a smile and Dottie nod encouragingly. I looked back at Miranda and wanted nothing more than to take away her fear.

"It's OK, Dear," I said. She gave me an unconvincing smile.

"Well," I began, sipping the wine, "at first it was her frequent appearances in my office." That matched Miranda's account of how we fell in love. "Her laughter was like music to me from the first time we met. And to be honest... I'm only human... I was mostly struck by her physical beauty."

"Atta boy!" toasted Ray, raising his glass. Jeanine hushed him. Miranda was still bracing for the worst.

"But physical beauty fades... It's inconstant.... variable. The extraordinary -- and she is extraordinarily beautiful -- even the extraordinary becomes familiar over time. What makes her really beautiful is the hundred ways she adapts to my... peculiarities... everyday. The way she is sometimes a mother, sometimes a friend, sometimes a colleague, and sometimes... other things." I blushed deeply at that part, pausing as our guests gave knowing smiles.

"It's the way she anticipates needs and meets them, and the way she helps me navigate a confusing world. The way she applies her intellect to the betterment of our lives. The way she solves problems creatively and the way she tenaciously pursues her goals. The way she takes the raw materials of life... and a man unsuited to marriage... and creates something special."

I looked at Miranda to ensure I wasn't doing anything wrong. I didn't want to mess up all her careful plans. Things had been going so well, I thought. The tears glistening in her eyes were hard to interpret. I was considering how to continue, but Thomas raised his glass and said, "To the wives we could never deserve."

"Hear, hear!" agreed Ray, raising his glass yet again. The ladies and I joined our glasses in the toast. The serenity of the moment was finally interrupted by Miranda, who inexplicably spilled some wine onto her slacks.

"Oh shoot!" she said, sliding her chair back. "Excuse me for just a minute." And with that she darted to my/our bedroom. While she was gone, Dottie answered some questions about her work running a large shelter. Hearing about their services to battered women, homeless families, crisis pregnancies, and much more, I began to understand how Miranda's background from a single-parent home had led her to volunteer with their charity. When Dottie mentioned that she had known Miranda longer than she had known Thomas, a whole new conversation began, revealing just how recently the two of them had gotten married.

About then, Miranda returned, wearing a long, loose skirt. She asked me to help her clear the plates and get dessert ready. Once we were in the kitchen, and after we had set down the dishes, Miranda threw herself at me, gripping my face in her hands and sucking at my lips until I touched her tongue with my own. Pressing her body to mine, she grinded up and down.

"I think you've made a convincing enough of a mess of me," I suggested, pulling back. Any second now, someone might walk in. Instead of agreeing, Miranda pushed us through the kitchen and into the adjacent laundry room. With the door open, we could still hear the murmur of conversation, punctuated with occasional laughter.

Once inside the small space, Miranda backed up against the washer and pulled me towards her. Hiking up her skirt with one hand, she grabbed my wrist and directed it between her legs.

"I don't... I'm not sure what to do," I whispered with strained voice.

Miranda forced her lips to mine again, moving my hand into place over the warmth of her folds. My eyes widened when I realized she wore no panties. Her hand covered mine, which was pressed against her skin. She urged me to move back and forth, causing me to alternately feel soft hair, then slick wet skin. Hair. Skin. Wetness. Her hand guided my motions for a minute, showing me to press harder at certain points.

"Just keep that up," she whispered huskily into my mouth. Removing her hand from mine, she pulled my other hand around her back. I wanted to pull her body even closer to mine, to bring some part of her into contact with my straining arousal.

"Just hold me tight, Puppy. I'm so close." Her hips moved gently in time with my rubbing, pushing towards me at some points and pulling back at others. As her breathing sped up, she pulled away from our kiss and rested her forehead on my shoulder. I heard her whimper as she was clenching her thighs. Suddenly, she grabbed the back of my neck with both hands and muffled a cry. Her knees buckled and my hands were placed just right to support her. She leaned against me, breasts swelling as she sucked air.

I had stopped thinking about dinner. About our guests in the next room. About the need to portray a convincing marriage. About anything else. We inhabited another world, a world to ourselves, a world that held only two lovers.

She descended from the heights of her release, and I felt her shaking gently. She looked up with tears on her cheeks. "Thank you, Deke," she whispered "I'll take care of you later, if you want." Then, wiping her cheeks on my shirt, she guided my hand out of her skirt and straightened the garment.

"I hope we weren't too long," she whispered as we re-entered the kitchen. Glancing at the stove clock, I assured her it had not been more than four minutes.

Placing a glass dish of dessert in my hands, she pointed me towards the dining area. "Well, hurry up! Don't make it five!" she ordered as she gathered clean plates. I paused, trying to will my erection to subside, but I knew there was no chance of that happening. I held the dish low, hiding my crotch, but then realized that would only draw attention to that direction. Seeing no other option, I strode towards the table, trying to mask my embarrassment. Knowing smirks around the table told me it was pointless to pretend nothing had happened. Four minutes is a long time to excuse oneself from a dinner party.

Miranda appeared behind me, passing out clean plates and forks as Dottie stood up to serve the dessert. I sat down and adjusted my glasses. As I did, I picked up the unmistakable aroma of Miranda on my hand. I quickly lowered the hand to my lap, accepting my dessert plate with the other hand. All through dessert, which seemed unnecessarily prolonged, I couldn't stop thinking about my hand, worrying that someone else would comment on it. When I finally resolved to excuse myself to the bathroom, Ray joked, "Don't let either of them leave the room! Next time, they won't come back at all!"

"Raymond!" chided his wife as the Malpans laughed.

"It's OK," Dottie said. "I think we're going to head home now, anyway. Right, Tom?"

Jeanine and Ray followed suit, and the six of us headed towards the door. Amid much leave-taking and hand-shaking, I tried to smile even though I was forced to use the hand that had been used so recently to pleasure Miranda. The entire party was on the porch, zipping up coats, except for Ray, who lingered in the entryway with me.

Gripping my hand (that hand), Ray leaned in and spoke softly. "I'm gonna shoot straight with you, Deacon. This wasn't entirely a social visit. There have been some... questions about whether your marriage was real or just a sham. The university takes that stuff very seriously. They've been scammed before. Sorry to come here under less-than-honest pretenses, but it was either me or Dr. Cavell. And you know she's a wet blanket at any event."

"Oh," I said, trying to remain calm. "That's alright. I understand. Propriety and all. Can't be too careful."

"Exactly," he said, releasing my hand and slapping my shoulder. "But it's clear you two are nuts for each other. You've got nothing to worry about..." He stepped outside, then turned back for one last arm slap, "nothing except keeping up your energy and not falling behind on your work." Then lumbering his large frame down the porch steps and covering his balding head with a fedora, he shouted, "Well, Thomas, let's get these ladies home and see if the newlyweds have given them any inspiration."

"Raymond!" gasped Jeanine, who was yet smiling. "You are not driving tonight!"

"Not until we get home, at least!" he shouted for everyone to hear.

Miranda was hugging Dottie, who was whispering in her ear. They parted and Miranda joined me on the porch, huddling closer for warmth and resting her head on my shoulder. We watched both cars drive away, then went back into the house. Miranda pulled the curtains shut as I locked the door. I assumed we would evaluate the evening, comparing notes before returning the bedroom to its proper arrangement.

But as I turned to face Miranda, she was upon me, pushing me towards the dining room table. Shoving me into a chair, she flipped off the light. Her motions illumined only by the glow of a nearby street lamp, she knelt in front of me and unbuckled my pants. Pulling them down to the floor along with my briefs, she gripped my semi-hard member and stroked it gently a few times. Without warning, she pressed her face to my crotch and took my length into her mouth. She moved up and down steadily, with clear intent. I rose to full hardness in no time, and she continued her ministrations. Never pausing to breathe or swallow, she allowed a steady trickle of saliva to leak down, adding further sensation to what her lips and tongue were doing.

I shifted nervously, unsure what to do with my hands. I rested them on her head for a moment, then let go and gripped the seat of the chair. I whimpered in nervousness, sounds she must have taken to be indication of my arousal. But she couldn't have known otherwise.

Lifting her head so that I felt the cool air on my tip for the first time, she asked, "Do you want me to finish you like this?"

I looked down at Miranda's face cloaked in shadow. Lacking enough light to see her features, I saw instead only the terror supplied by my own memory. No. No I did not want to stay like that. A girl in tears on her knees. My feet unable to move. Laughter in the darkness.

"Please no," was all I said.

Miranda quickly stood up, managing to doff her skirt as she rose. "Good," she said, with sunshine in her voice. I relaxed.

With surprising ease and suddenness, she scooted forward and sank down onto my lap, guiding me into her with the help of two gentle fingers. We sighed in unison at our joining, and Miranda looked down at me. In this position, she was a head taller than I. "We did it, Deke. It's all good now, isn't it?"

"Ray confirmed as much," I informed her. "It was a test. We passed."

With her toes able to touch the floor, Miranda began to slowly rise and fall on my lap. I closed my eyes at the exquisiteness of her warmth around me and rested my hands on her hips. I liked the feel of her hip bones under a soft layer of flesh.

"You were great, tonight, Deke. Just perfect. I am so proud of you. I know it wasn't easy."

She continued soft movements, gentle enough to hold my arousal at a high level, but not enough to advance towards release. From the sound of her breathing, the same seemed to be true for her.

"It might be easier," I hesitantly suggested, "if you didn't keep surprising me."

Miranda moved her face towards mine, our noses touching. "Would it?" she asked. "Or would it just give you something more to be anxious about? Something to obsess over?"

"Maybe. But if you respect me as an adult, you'll give me that choice."

Miranda slowed down her strokes, pressing harder each time. "I thought you liked it when I mothered you," she whispered. Then with a tone of vulnerable sincerity, she asked, "Or were you just making all that up?"

"Everything in its place. Everything has a time," I explained, gasping as she squeezed me in her depths. "Wisdom to know the difference." My mouth opened as a twinge of pleasure surrounded me. I pushed up a little, eliciting a gasp from my partner. "For example," I continued, "now is not a time I want to be mothered."

Miranda rewarded me with a laugh as she leaned back, maintaining her balance by wrapping her arms around my neck. "Then I guess you're not interested in these," she teased, nodding her head down towards her chest, which was still covered by her blouse.

"That's entirely different," I objected, wishing she would reveal those precious treasures to me.

She leaned back in, stopping her thrusts and holding me deeply. Swiveling her hips in very small circles, she initiated a tender kiss. Then, barely breaking lip contact, she said, "If you want them, come and get them." Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she twisted around in my lap. She emitted soft squeaks and breathy moans. I gently placed one hand on the outer swell of her chest.

"Is that all the badly you want them?" she challenged me. "I guess I've been misreading you."

With trembling fingers, I undid her top button. Then the second. By the third button, I could pull her blouse down off her shoulders. Miranda pulled her arms back to let me do so, but because the bottom two buttons were still in place, she couldn't wiggle her arms free. I went to unfasten the remaining buttons, but Miranda stopped me.

"No. Wait. This is... this is kinda hot. Just unhook the front of my bra." With some difficulty, I managed to follow her instructions, finally revealing those marvelous swellings that invaded my thoughts through the course of each day. "Can you push my shirt down any lower on my arms?" she asked. I managed another little bit while Miranda sat still and rhythmically squeezed me with her walls.

"Now you have to hold me up," she explained. "I'm at your mercy. Put your hands on my back. No, under my shirt. Feel my skin."

I followed her suggestions, hardly taking my eyes off her generous curves. Without further rearranging, we both began moving our hips. It took a moment to find our rhythm and angle, but once we did, we both sensed the increased intensity. My lips kissed between her breasts, pulling her close to me. Supporting her back with one hand (and aided by her hands on my knees) I fondled whichever mound I wasn't kissing. Not tiring of her chest, but considering that she might appreciate the variety, my lips trailed up to her collarbone, then along her throat. Miranda extended her neck, tightening the skin as I explored it.

A few minutes -- nearly ten -- seemed to be all the restraint that Miranda could endure. Pushing herself forward, she shrugged her shirt back onto her shoulders and pressed my head against her throat.

"Oh God..." she whispered, changing her thrust to involve much more lift. I nearly slipped out as she rose up, but then I would be suddenly forced back into her depths, at which point she would spread her legs and maximize the contact at the spot where I entered her. Then she would repeat the process: lift, pause, press, grind, moan, kiss, lift, pause, press, grind, moan, kiss...

As she sped up, her hands gripped my shirt and pulled violently apart. It was a new shirt she had chosen for me, one fastened by metal snaps instead of buttons. The intensity of that action was reflected in her eyes. She pressed her breasts against my bare chest. She had insisted I not wear a t-shirt that night. I wondered if even this moment had been planned.

"Do you really think I'm pretty?" she whispered, barely audible were it not for her lips at my ear.

When I didn't answer immediately, she said, "I'm not talking about love. I'm just wondering if you really meant what you said tonight. A woman is always wanting to know if anyone finds her... beautiful... beautiful."

"Without question," I answered, nuzzling downward for another taste of her thick nipples. "It's as plain as anything could be. You should never need to wonder about that."

She responded, if that's what it was, by pressing even closer to me so that her elbows rested behind my shoulder. Our bodies merged as much as physically possible. Her motion changed one final time, as she spread her legs wide and pressed down, rubbing against me as much as she could in that position.

Ohhhh... Ohhhhhh...OHHHHMMMM! At the bottom of one downward stroke, she froze in place and I was surprised at the feeling of her entire tunnel milking my shaft. Her legs tried to clamp shut but only succeeded in gripping me tighter. Her upper body writhed against me and her voice rang in my ears with incoherent cries. I was too stunned to move, but that seemed to suit Miranda just fine. After a few seconds, she rose up a bit, and I felt her continue to twitch and squeeze around the middle of my shaft.

That sensation renewed my own pursuit of release, and I again gripped her hips. Pulling her harder onto my lap, I pushed my hips up from the chair as Miranda oomphed from the sudden assault. I distantly heard her breathing slow down even as my own accelerated. She was soon cooperating with my final effort, ensuring I went as deeply as possible on each thrust. As my eyes clenched shut in concentration, Miranda cooed in my ear, "Do you like my ass, Puppy? Is it fun to hold?"

Responding to her suggestion, my hands traveled down and cupped her full, firm cheeks. No longer able to control her hips, I let her drive me towards release with her insistent bouncing. In a last effort, I squeezed her bottom and pushed up, almost rising from the chair. Miranda pushed back, forcing us down as I finally reached the crest of my frenzy. I felt strong, steady blasts leave my body and enter hers. I pulled back and pushed up again, responding to the imperative of instinct. Gasping deeply, I fell back in the chair, noticing that Miranda was watching me with a cryptic smile. After a minute, I began to soften, and gravity pulled me out of that place that felt like home.

Miranda groaned as she stood up and stretched her legs. "Let's save clean-up for the morning," she suggested. I suspected she knew I would be inclined to agree. "Unless you object, I'm going to sleep in your bed tonight," she informed me as she walked to the bedroom. I watched her bare bottom and smooth legs in fascination as she walked away. A few minutes later, we were clothed in basic sleepwear and lying together in the dark.

"Do you want to snuggle?" she asked me, lying on her side and facing away.
"Yes... and no," I said, unsure of my reasoning for either answer.

"OK," she said sleepily. Moments later, I heard the soft sound of her sleep. Waiting a minute or two, I carefully scooted closer, gingerly putting one arm around her body and noting the pleasant sensations of her body against mine. The cool smoothness of her legs curving against my thighs, the soothing cadence of her torso expanding and contracting in my half-embrace, the smell of her hair. After indulging in those wonderful sensations for a minute, I lifted my arm, moved back towards the wall, faced the ceiling, and slept.

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