Orion, My Beloved Hunter

She stretched out her body in a feline fashion, smiling, clamping shut her thighs upon his shaft, and laughing brightly at his remark. "Hunter, you now own me. No man has ever given to me what you have, and I have never surrendered myself to another like this. I am so wet...slippery...gooey...and it is perfection to be naked before you."

"If I get the temperature right in here, would you consider staying that way all day?" he asked with an obviously hopeful note in his voice.

"I love being naked, dear one. Will it make you more likely to seize me again and ravish me, assault me, storm me and make me a holy mess?"

"It may have a great deal to do with it," he laughed. "But how often can we do this before our parts start to wear out?"

"While you are inside me with all that luscious cum and those millions of precious bits of you racing around in my intimate places and my legs are clamped on you, I want you to stroke me," she commanded. "And I can do this forever."

He did so effortlessly. On one hand there was little friction at all; on the other, they could sense every single movement, every touch, every contraction that each of them made.

"You can have me as often as you want to, lover. I have never responded to another person like this. And I have used erotic inserts with a gallon of gel, I may get red with your delicious invasions, but I will only become more sensitive and I will only need you more."

He rested upon her body, carefully putting his weight upon her until they were one. Her hair caressed his face and she whispered into his ear.

"You are mine now, Hunter. I am yours. This is not a one-time affair. We belong to each other."

"Yes, Reagan, we do. For today, for tomorrow, and somehow for a long, long time."

"We will work it out, my dear and perfect lover. Please stay inside of me. You are a-b-s-o-l-u-t-e-l-y huge. You stretch me...ooo, my!...as if I have this enormous log inside of me, and I can't decide whether I want you to push yourself to the back of my throat or to touch my spine with this incredibly wonderful gift of yours."

Silence as he continued to stroke her, then she asked, "This has been such a delightful and slow conquest by you. How did you do it, Hunter?" She laughed gently, expecting no answer.

He had managed to do for her something that had caressed her soul even in the midst of her sickness, and she was definitely a very sick lady; still, she continued to stare at him with an intensity and hunger that truly rattled him.

Her eyes told him that she knew he was on the way. If it were possible, they seemed to widen even more, spearing him with their intensity, and she wriggled her hips in preparation. She began a slow and animal-like smile of anticipation and announced with certainty, "You are coming, Hunter, I can sense you."

As he softly and steadily pressed into her and then withdrew, he asked, "How can you tell, how do you know?"

"A woman in love knows these things, Hunter. I feel you swelling even more in me. Your head is so large that its rim caresses my flesh, it tells me delicious and erotic things you will do to me. Think of all those pictures, of every part of me I ever showed. Know that you are enslaving more of me now than anyone did who ever saw me. I am so happy that you are bare inside of me. Smooooth...tender...sooo hot...AH!"

With that cry she began to heave beneath him, and he realized that without timing or effort he was going to lose himself along with her. It burned its way through him like a welding torch. His cream felt as if it were expanding like steam within his shaft and when he spurted, he cried with relief as well as ecstasy at the sensation of release.

Reagan's mouth formed a large red O as her own orgasm gripped her without mercy, tearing away any shreds of hesitation, any reluctance to trust a man again. With a hoarse cry of feminine longing she gripped him and bucked against his thrusts like a wild horse, determined to throw him off yet just as determined that she would imprison him forever.

Their moans and whisperings crowded out the sighing and whines of the storm outside. Their bodies moved and swirled over and under each other in some dance of passion even as they were connected by Hunter's greatly enlarged penis. Sweat and creamy emissions lubricated their bodies and in a moment when the storm subsided, they could hear the sticky, sucking sounds of furious intercourse.

He continued thrusting and almost on the heels of her first climax, her eyes widened again and she said hoarsely, "You...you are making me do it again! Nothing...I...oh, God!...oh, heavens, that was an electric shock! That zipped right through my tummy and legs. How do you do this to me? Ohhh...ooo."

With a childish delight that made him laugh, she announced, "Okay, here I go, again!"

And her furious writhing and twisting almost threw them off the couch.

She wrapped her fabulous legs around him as they thrust and pumped, and somehow in spite of her grip he managed to continue pushing into and withdrawing from her body. By now they could feel their bodies sliding around on the couch in the glorious, gooey mess beneath them.

Eventually, the laws of physics and chemistry overcame them, and the two lovers ceased in utter exhaustion.

"Do you realize," he remarked softly to Reagan as he raised his torso over her while remaining completely inside her, "that you are a sick woman? That you are hot, hot, hot, and while I am captivated by your passion, I know that part of that heat is still flu?"

"All right," she said with a tired but deeply satisfied smile, "you win. I'll let you go, Hunter, but only if you promise that no matter how sick I am today, you will do this to me again before nightfall."

"What man has ever been forced to make such a sensuous promise? Yes, lovely Reagan. I will make love with you again today. Now you are so full of me and our cream that we are leaking like a broken hydraulic system."

"I know it! Isn't it wonderful! Oh, it feels so good on my skin."

"It is sexy, isn't it?"

"Yes, Hunter, lover. Now, with all we've done, it's time for you to call me things more intimate than just 'Reagan.' Anything you wish to name me, a nickname, something erotic and suggestive that you can use around others, it will be precious to me. I fear that you have captured me, Hunter, and I just gave myself to you. I should be terribly afraid, but I'm not."

"All right, sweet lady, you overcame me as well. I'm in love with you, so if I've captured you, then you own me as well. There is no reason you should be afraid, Reagan."

He was quiet for a moment, then he asked, "What if I call you Madison? I can't explain how deeply you affected me and the way I constantly thought of your name, 'Madison.'"

She gazed at him with an understanding smile, then whispered, "I would consider it an intimate and sensuous thing for you to call me that, for always if you wish."

6

Plans

When Reagan stood, she swayed unsteadily, bearing out Hunter's caution that she remained ill and needed to shower, then let him get her back into bed. She agreed to the showering, then put on a bathing cap to keep dry her lovely black mane.

"You must wash me, lover. I need help." He stepped into the stall with her, adjusted the water temperature, and slowly soaped her entire body, running his hand through her anal cleft, fondling her breasts, and clenching and tugging the lush mass of her fur. The soap with its rich lather made touching her flesh an exotic experience.

She grasped the hand-holds in the shower as he made love to her with his hands. Sweet tenderness. Delicious touches. A man knowing her and giving her the delights of slow adoration of her body. Her heat building once more and the sensation of another zippy little orgasm that left her wet...again.

'You just play me like a bluegrass banjo,' she thought. 'Lord, can you keep these seizures of mine going indefinitely? I think I've had fifteen with no sign of stopping!'

She clutched at him and as he held her to kiss her she took his hard penis to insert it into her body. He slid easily into her, the water coursing down over their bodies as he kissed her, she whispering desperate little snatches of passion as she pressed her thighs together, he finding no resistance to his slow thrusting despite the grip of her thighs.

She came first, this time shouting her joy, peppering her ecstasy with little mutterings about his size, about this being a joyful rape of her entire womanhood, and then the delicious convulsions rippled through her once more. He held her in his arms as she wriggled and moaned and then fastened her mouth leech-like over his, pouring her juices into him, sucking his tongue so powerfully that he felt as if she might pull it out.

As if in reward for an accomplishment well done, he spurted into her. It drained him so beautifully that he cried out. Dreams and imagination were never this captivating. He couldn't get close enough to her, couldn't hold her tightly enough. At one point he had to suddenly let her go because she couldn't breathe in his embrace.

Reagan backed off his penis, then turned off the shower and knelt before him to devour his shaft. Still no fast movements as the film clips and movies depict. She drew on him with a passion that he felt to his spine. She fondled his swollen stem as if it were a holy gift, whispering compliments about its scent, its size, the pleasure of enfolding it with her mouth and tasting his cum.

He could not possibly repeat an orgasm, but she apparently could still taste his cream for she closed her eyes and rolled something around in her mouth before swallowing it.

Finally, she stood and with a coy smile said, "Now, mister captivator, I'm clean, I'm still sick, but you have done wonders to help me recover. I should write a book on the best way to recover from illness with the man of your life. This, Hunter, is how you do it."

With a giggle she escorted him from the shower, and they dried off each other, the pleasurable task taking three times as long because he kept sliding his fingers through the slipperiness between her thighs and she insisted on fingering his anus and toying with his penis.

"Tell me, what pictures of me were or are your favorites?"

"Easy...you know the one of you completely nude in a very well-populated hotel ballroom, wearing a black flat-top card-player Stetson, black embroidered stay-up stockings and black stiletto heels? That is incredibly sensuous. You certainly had everybody's attention. And the ones of you completely nude, lying on your bed or the floor, close-ups of your face, your breasts, your pussy and your entire body? Those are my favorites, and I still have them."

"I remember them very well. Thank you, Hunter. You may not believe this, but when we were shooting that one in the ballroom at the rather sensuous wedding of an acquaintance, I thought, 'I dedicate these to the man I've never met, the love of my life. Now I know it was you."

"Reagan, princess...," he trailed off, realizing how significant were her words. "Thank you. You are more beautiful now than in those photographs."

"All right," he announced, breaking the silence with a hungry expression. "Time to get you into something for the day on the couch. That's where you are going, so no arguing. How about this sexy white flannel pullover?"

"Okay, hang it on me and see if you approve."

She drew it over her head, and only then did he realize that it was wonderfully skimpy, it exposed most of her breasts because of the low neckline and slender straps, and it just barely concealed her hips, leaving bare the black delta of her flourishing and beautifully sculpted fur.

"Ah! Hunter, you certainly know how to help a lady get dressed for illness recovery."

"Boy, I do, don't I," he agreed as he took her arm and escorted her to the couch where she stood while he cleaned off the evidence of their furious lovemaking of that morning, laid down another sheet, tucked it in and helped her lie on it. She was a picture of lovely sensuality.

She stared at him, blue eyes sparkling, her mouth forming sexy little words for him, breasts already forcing their way out of the soft top, and her thick fur an inviting pool of darkness.

"Oh, yes, I'm very sick. Right now I don't need a cover, but you go ahead and do what you need to. I'll watch and doze and want you all over again."

He bent over to kiss her, then whispered, "Yes, you do need a cover, because it is cold outside. Gets that way in the mountains. Now rest. Think about me inside of you. Bare. Losing everything. Go to sleep."

He didn't need to add the latter; she had already fallen into a restful, satisfied slumber.

Plans, he needed to consider them. Outside there was silence. The weather front had passed, leaving in its wake a chilly silence and sounds of the forest dripping water, a living thing. He loved the wilderness and its quietening effect and hoped the woman on the couch would as well.

Hunter thought about what Reagan would be doing in the future. She was well-educated and had a good job in Chattanooga. He would like to encourage her to resurrect her appearances on an erotic website; she enjoyed it, he definitely enjoyed her...and a number of other erotic features as well; and it was a delicious stimulus to what he hoped was their ongoing time together. His own company, Appalachian Investments, was headquartered in Birmingham, but he could accomplish his investment directing from his computer wherever he was.

Did Reagan have a big home? Was she wedded to displays of money, stuff? What about her lesbian lover at the university? That was definitely not a problem for him. Reagan needed that friendship and love and he was not at all threatened by it; he hoped to meet Brenda soon, as she had promised.

He was going to make this his home, now that he'd been here and had fallen in love with the whole place, wilderness, small village and all. He would have to talk with her when she awoke. In the meantime, he went to his laptop and began laying out a means of staying here.

The hours passed quietly. In the woods a woodpecker began its hammering in a dry, dead oak out back, and he detected the forty-something whistles and calls of a mockingbird he had named Big Al. The sun was attempting to break through the clouds but the cold remained. He glanced at the couch and discovered that Reagan was again silently watching him.

Even with the flush of illness, she was stunning. That thick black hair that called attention to her incredibly smooth, creamy skin that begged to be licked; her red mouth, matching fingernails and mascara-outlined eyes from which those piercing blue eyes gazed at him; the flesh beneath her arms and inside her thighs that was exactly the same color and smoothness as her entire body; her deep thicket of jet black fur, so carefully tended to a perfect delta, that completely hid her pussy; her catlike way of moving her arms and legs that invited his possession of her.

But most enchanting and inviting of all was her expression of sweet pleasure, fulfillment and longing for him.

"Hunter, please come here and sit by me. I need you in order to become well. I need the feel of you. I must touch you, caress your intimate delights to reassure myself of your reality. I am so deeply and sensuously affected by you...I can't rest any longer unless you take me once more. You do not really understand what you have done to me, and how completely I have surrendered to you. Come to me, lover, and talk, whisper, caress me, lick me, kiss my tender places...oh, God...please just destroy me again the way you did this morning!"

Hunter had never seen a woman literally squirm with passion, her body flexing with desire, her eyes, the windows to her soul, so burning with heat and longing to have every conceivable tender sexual thing done to her.

He sat and placed her head on his lap, her body stretched the length of the couch. As he lightly ran his fingers over her throat, then down her shoulders to fondle her breasts and those lovely pink nipples, finally ending at her navel, he whispered to her.

"Reagan, in a very subtle way you paralyze me as I look at you. The fact that you are older than I am and still desire me does something beautiful in my heart that I never knew. You are a perfection of creation...your face, your hair and eyes, your delicate and completely impossibly delicious body...your smooth, delectable skin that deserves something far more worshipful than mere touching...the way your breasts remain firm and high when you lie down...the perfection of your black, shiny hair between your thighs, such a regal contrast to your skin...your legs and feet...you are more to be worshiped than any woman I've ever seen. My beloved goddess."

As he lapsed into silence, tears formed in her eyes and lightly skated down the sides of her face into the delicate shells of her ears.

"Poetry, words from a man's creative heart, sounds of honey being spread throughout my soul, your touches that are so soft yet strike matches all throughout my body, setting me on fire. I am alive for you, Hunter. My breathing is rapid. My heart beats too fast. I wish I were pregnant so that I could nurse you with my milk, so I could feel your lips tugging at my nipples, so that I could get myself hot and make them spurt milk onto you. I have become so hot that I have been running cream since you first touched me. Look," and she very lightly swept her fingers through her vagina, "look at how sticky and wet I am. I am so on fire for you that I wish I could devour my own pussy, taste my syrup, feel my fur on my face."

"I am one with you, Reagan. And I need you again."

"Will you p...l...e...e...a...s...e capture me? Don't wait, Hunter. Oh!...I am so...so...help me, my man!" Her sexy voice rose to a cry of need.

H repositioned himself in order to kiss her as he caressed her breasts and softly squeezed them. Her kisses were furious in their intensity. She poured her juices into his mouth, panting her need, and he actually heard the small, sticky sound of cream escaping between her legs. He put his left hand between her thighs, clasping a handful of her thick grass, then pressing four fingers into her slippery heat.

"That...is...so, ooo...my! So sexy, so intimate. Please push your hand into me. I can receive you. Do it, now." She spread her legs to make room for him.

He thought he would be unable to fit his entire hand into her vagina; he was wrong. She was so dilated, so wet, that he slid into her body to his wrist, encountering delicate hot walls of flesh that seemed to contract upon his hand. Her eyes enlarged with excitement. He had no idea a woman could take such an invasion.

"Yes, yes! Oh, that is heaven itself, Hunter. My whole body is alight. I can feel your caresses in my breasts, rippling through my legs, stroking the edges of my soul. You have enlarged me...I am so big...it is wonnnderfulll," she sighed, then urged him, "work your fingers around. Curl them inside of me, you won't hurt me, dear one. Oh, I was made for this!"

He slowly curved his fingers into a light fist, then opened them once more, stroking the insides of her body, marveling at her heat and tender flesh and the slippery bath of her cream.

"I have never done this before. So slowly, so gently, and as you look at me you melt into me, Reagan. I don't know where I leave off and you begin."

So much for planning.

Chapter 7

Sweet Imaginings

"Hunter, darling, since you are buried so intimately inside of me, something that only Brenda has done, and she never took me so gloriously apart like you are doing, would you tell me what are some of your fantasies?" She smiled with a lusty expression in her eyes.