The Taste of Trust

Except for the red glow from the digital alarm clock, which read 4:53, the room was still dark. My eyes had adjusted to the lack of light but I could still barely make out the features of Hokuto's sleeping face. I propped myself up on an elbow and leaned close. It had been almost four months since the last time I'd seen him but it had seemed much longer. I'd expected him to look older, but all the lines and creases my eyes had traced and memorized in the past two years were the same. If anything, in the darkness, his face completely relaxed, he looked younger than his forty-six years.

I'd found him attractive since the first day I met him. He'd shown up at the bus stop one morning and in a rare gregarious moment, I struck up a conversation. Over the next six months, in twenty-five minute intervals, we'd developed a connection. Even if I hadn't found him handsome, I would have been attracted to his gentle nature. He was calm and quiet, sometimes a little shy; so different from my brutish husband.

But I did find him attractive physically too. He had a small build, long, tapered fingers and a gracefulness to his movements. I'd studied his face every chance I'd gotten, his perfect Cupid's bow lips, hooded eyes and the creases at the corners when he smiled. He had beauty in his features, something my life had sorely lacked.

To say I'd been unhappily married would be an understatement. I'd gotten married right out of high school, desperate to escape the house I'd grown up in. My father was a controlling alcoholic who had all but destroyed my mother's spirit and seemed hell bent on destroying mine as well. I thought marriage would save me but within a year my husband had taken up where my dad had left off, adding slaps and punches into the mix.

"If you had the opportunity to leave your husband, would you?"

I was 21 the day Hokuto asked me that. The question had shocked me in part because of its bluntness but also because Hokuto and I had never talked about my husband's abuse. I'd stared, open-mouthed, unable to speak while he explained the ways in which he was able and willing to help me. He'd made arrangements with his sister, if I was interested, for me to move in with her, to give her a hand during her recovery from back surgery while I looked for another job.

He'd explained that his work required him to move around a lot, and that the work he'd been doing in Boston was finished. He told me it was unlikely he'd ever see me again once he left. And then he'd pushed an envelope across the table. I'd reached for it and his hand had covered mine, pressing it down gently, flat over the envelope.

"Even if you decide not to come to Brooklyn, I want you to keep this money and use it to get away from him. Please, Sofie." He'd paused and I felt my heart pounding hard in my chest. His eyes had been full of emotion, the muscles in his face tense. "Men like that," he'd continued with uncharacteristic coldness in his voice, "don't change."

Looking at him now, in the darkness, I knew I was completely in love. Sometimes it hurt and sometimes it was lonely, and there were many times I wished I could tell him how much I felt for him, how much in love I was. But most of the time I was content with the unusual relationship we had, content to enjoy what time I got with him. He'd given me a second chance at happiness, a second chance to turn it all around. I couldn't ask for more.

In his sleep, Hokuto stirred briefly, sighing before he settled again. I pressed my face into his neck and breathed in his scent. I wondered where he'd been this time, what he'd seen. I slid my arm around his naked waist and rested my thigh over his, snuggling close. I thought back to earlier in the day when he'd appeared, unannounced and without ceremony on the path that led from the road to the Inn where I worked. I smiled, remembering how he'd looked standing there, his self-conscious smile, the clouds his breath made in the cold, how it had made my heart leap.

The few times I've tried, I've never been able to explain why I wait for him, why it's worth it. There were men who asked me out through the years. I could have gone on dates, been romanced, or spent the night with one of them. It could have eased the loneliness, but I never wanted it enough. All I wanted was Hokuto, and I was prepared to wait.

There was a freedom between us we'd never specifically spoken of or arranged. Each time he showed up out of the blue it was without the expectation that I'd take him in. And I never expected him to stay. Or even return. Neither of us owed the other a thing. There was no possessiveness, no expectations or demands, and in that unspoken arrangement we shared the time we had together without judgment or disappointment.

I kissed his cheek and slid my hand across his belly. I paused and let my hand rise and fall with his breath for a while, just enjoying his presence. I slid my hand down into his feathery, black pubic hair and over his cock. It was soft and warm. I stroked him idly, wanting to wake him, wondering if he was too tired to make love again.

I thought back on the evening, how charged the air had been between us during dinner, how tentative our first kisses had been and how quickly they'd turned to lustful advances. I thought of how his cock inside me felt as if it had awoken a live current of pleasure that coursed through my body in a strong, aching pulse.

It had been like that the first time and each time since; slow-building and intense until my orgasm shook me and I collapsed, breathless and spent. And each time I pushed aside the thought that this might be the last time and hung onto the pleasure and the moment, willing it to last.

I traced the line of his jaw with my mouth, enjoying the slight scrape of his whiskers against my lips. I moved lower and touched the tip of my tongue to his throat briefly before I kissed the soft flesh of his neck. He shifted in his sleep and made an indistinct noise. I moved lower still, drawing the blankets back as I did. I kissed my way down his chest until my lips touched the dark line of hair on his belly. I lifted his cock and drew the soft flesh into my mouth. It was warm and flaccid, but no less delightful on my tongue than when he was erect. I sucked him, enjoying the velvety softness and the elasticity of his flesh.

He shifted once more and mumbled something in Japanese. I moved my hand down between my legs and slid my fingers over my vulva. I was wet from earlier and the ache of arousal was starting to build inside me once more. I stroked myself as I continued to suck and stroke his cock. After a few minutes I could feel it hardening slightly in response to my touch, the shaft lengthening against my tongue. I moved slowly, my mind returning to the first time I'd taken him into my mouth and savored the slippery warmth between my lips.

We had been as silent as we could that night, conscious of the open windows and his sister's room just down the hall. We'd avoided speaking, communicating with our eyes and sighs, leading each other's hands and mouths to the exact spots that pleased us most. We'd avoided the squeaky bed, rocking slowly, wrapped in each other's arms in an overstuffed armchair, bent double on the floor, both of us panting and sweating, he guided me to my first ever orgasm by a man.

I hadn't been sure of how he felt until that night. He'd made it clear when he explained about the situation with his sister, that he wasn't asking me to leave my husband for him. He'd called himself unreliable, someone who couldn't be counted on to be around when needed. He spent most of his time traveling for his job, living in various places for weeks at a time, but never anywhere for much longer than that. I'd interpreted that to mean he wasn't interested in me romantically and despite how attractive I found him, I was OK with that. I wasn't interested in being with anyone now that I'd left my husband. I'd known it would take me some time to recover from what I'd been through.

I'd been at Hokuto's sisters for a few days when he told me he was leaving, off to Brazil for work. I'd known it was coming but facing the reality of it was much harder than I had expected. It brought into focus just how much on my own I was now.

I'd gone to his room after I'd helped his sister to her bed and knocked quietly. He'd smiled when he opened the door and I stepped through, trying to think of how best to begin to thank him for all he'd done. When I'd turned, something about the way he looked at me made my words stick in my throat.

I'd stammered, awkwardly expressing how grateful I was for the help he had given me. He'd continued to stare, a nervous look on his face. I'd felt the insistent throb of my heart as something intense but unspoken passed between us and I was overwhelmed with one desire; to be held and touched and made love to by him.

It had been a mutual movement toward each other, slow but without hesitation and the kiss had been soft, slightly restrained, but he'd drawn back first and I saw discomfort in his expression.

"You don't have to do this, Sophie," he'd whispered. "I don't want you to think you owe me anything."

I hadn't replied with words but I made myself clear by moving his hands to my waist.

"I told you," he'd continued, "I'm unreliable. I won't be there for you ... later."

I'd replied that I knew, that I didn't expect him to be there, and our eyes had locked for a full minute before he drew me toward him.

From there I'd entered a dream-like state of arousal like nothing I'd ever known before. We'd kissed for a long time, gentle kisses, open-mouthed and slow, and eager kisses punctuated with hungry sighs and the occasional clash of our teeth.

He'd undressed me slowly, his mouth following his fingers, kissing each new part of my body as it was uncovered. He'd guided my movements with his own, his strong arms lifting, twisting or bending me into different positions with firm but gentle pressure. He'd opened me to slip his fingers, his tongue, his cock inside me, and I'd surrendered to it all, lost in what might have been my first real moment of trust.

As if he was reading my thoughts, Hokuto sighed in his sleep, a long, drawn out moan. I was still stroking him, still sucking, and was delighted by how close to fully erect he'd grown.

I drew my mouth from his cock and whispered his name. No response. I shifted, letting go of his cock reluctantly and slid up his body to press my mouth to his. I kissed him and felt his lips twitch in response but his eyes stayed closed. I sat up and positioned myself so that my pussy was directly over his cock. I reached down and opened my outer lips and rested myself against his half-erect penis. I rocked back and forth, my wet pussy stroking him, a warmth and excitement rising with each motion of my hips.

He moaned again, this time I recognized my name, and his hands moved to touch my knees on either side of his hips. I leaned toward him, my hips still rocking slowly, and kissed him once more. This time he responded, his head lifting from the pillow slightly as his mouth sought mine. We kissed for a while, his hands roaming sleepily over my skin, his searching tongue lazy against my own.

I sat up and watched his eyes open slowly. A sleepy smile spread across his face and he lifted his hands to my breasts, cupping them lightly in his palms. I continued to rock my hips over his cock, noting how much longer it had grown since he'd woken up.

All at once he moved his hands to my hips, rolled me onto the bed's surface and slid on top of me, parting my legs. He entered me a second later and I gasped in surprise. He smiled down at me, his face full of a playful lust as his hips dipped and rose, his cock filling me again and again.

I reached for his neck and he bent to kiss me. At the same time he drew my legs up against my chest and pressed himself deeper inside me. I moaned against his mouth and arched my back in response. He held himself there as we kissed and then withdrew and knelt on the bed between my legs.

I tensed in anticipation as he moved my legs further apart and bent his head low to explore my pussy with his mouth. I bit my lip and clawed the sheets beneath me as his tongue dipped between my pussy lips. His motions were slow at first, his tongue wide and soft against my sensitive skin, warming, arousing, and teasing me.

His hands left my knees and moved down my inner thighs. I forced my body to relax and let my legs open wide as his fingers spread the outer lips of my pussy. I felt the touch of his tongue again, more deliberate this time, as he licked in long strokes from top to bottom. I sighed and reached down to stroke his dark hair. I could just see his face in the darkness, his black eyes looking back at me.

He continued licking, pausing now and then to pay special attention to my clit. Each time, I jumped when his tongue made direct contact, my thighs closing slightly.

His movements were precise, alternating between direct, exact stimulation and a more vague and teasing touch. His tongue moved urgently one moment, bringing me closer and closer to the release, and then slower, in wide circles all around, stroking anywhere but my clit. Then he would zero in again and let my arousal build once more.

I felt the pressure of his fingers at the entrance to my vagina and then the delicious sensation of being entered. One finger and then another moving in slow strokes, his tongue now pressed hard against my clit. I writhed under him as the pleasure built.

He thrust into me in a steady rhythm, raising his head to watch my reaction, adjusting the angle and location of his fingertips, searching for the spot inside me that would send me over the edge. He stroked my clit with his free hand and I squirmed as I drew closer and closer to orgasm.

I moaned his name, panting, and heard him answer in a hoarse voice, his own arousal clearly evident. I pushed my hips upward slightly and he quickened his pace, his fingers thrusting into me more rapidly and with greater force. "Sophie, you're so close," he whispered.

He bent his head again and when his tongue touched my clit I cried out and felt a sudden painful convulsion that immediately turned to pure, liquid pleasure. My insides quaked as he continued to thrust in and out, his wrist tense, his tongue moving like mad over my clit. I panted his name again and again and shivered as multiple spasms gripped me, sending waves and chills of pleasure through my whole body.

He drew his face away, his fingers still sliding in and out of me, more slowly now, milking a few, weaker tremors from my body before he moved above me, bringing his mouth to mine in a feverish kiss. The taste of my own wetness on his lips excited me, my exhausted pussy throbbing gently in response.

We kissed for a few minutes until my heart had stopped pounding. His cock pressed against my belly, slippery and hard. I pushed at his chest and whispered, "Stand up."

I slid to the edge of the bed and took him in my hand, stroking gently. He brushed the hair out of my eyes and smiled at me, his hands resting on either side of my head. I smiled back and, without breaking eye contact, dropped my head down and licked at the head of his cock. He watched, his smile fading slowly, as I licked and then sucked him between my lips. I kept my lips tight and let the whole rubbery head slip over my tongue, gently increasing the pressure of my mouth for just a second. He sighed and closed his eyes.

I drew my mouth off and repeated the motions a dozen times, taking only the head of his cock in each time. His hands still held my head. I felt his fingers tighten slightly each time I sucked him in.

Little by little I increased the speed of my movements and each time I felt his hands urge me forward, wanting me to take more of his cock into my mouth. I let him lead me somewhat, inching my way down the shaft just a little each time until at last I felt the pressure of the tip of his cock at the back of my throat. Above me I heard him moan, his hands firm but trembling at either side of my head.

I drew back completely, turned around on the bed, my hand still grasping his cock, and stretched out on my back. I let my head hang over the side of the bed. "Come closer," I said, tugging gently at his cock, pointing it toward my waiting mouth.

Hokuto's face was heavy with arousal, his movements slow. He leaned forward and put one hand on the bed for balance as he bent his knees and eased his pelvis toward me. I guided his cock into my mouth and he slowly moved his hips forward, his eyes focused on his cock as it disappeared between my lips. I felt my throat being filled and then the soft warmth of his balls against my nose.

Above me, Hokuto sighed, his whole body shaking slightly. He shifted his weight and I felt his hand cover my breast, his other cradled my head, and he began rocking his hips back and forth, feeding his cock in and out of my lips.

I closed my eyes and could imagine the look of intense, restrained pleasure on his face, the way his jaw locked with effort and the creases around his eyes deepened when he was aroused. I arched my back, stretching my throat even more, and heard his sudden intake of breath as he moved deeper still into my mouth.

He was whispering, half in Japanese, his breath quick as he continued to fill my throat again and again. I could feel the tension in his hips as he moved, the tremor each time he reached the limit. He was holding back, savoring the sensations but close to the peak of his pleasure.

When he drew his cock from my lips I sat up and massaged my aching jaw. Hokuto slid onto the bed beside me and pressed me down onto my back. He bent and took my nipple between his lips as his hand moved to my pussy. He slid his fingers up and down a few times before pushing them inside me.

He thrust into me, his movements quicker than before, his thumb making contact with my clit each time he moved. His tongue swirled over my nipple roughly. I could feel his rapid breath on my skin. I ran my fingers through his hair and watched as his mouth engulfed my breast, his tongue working my nipple briefly before he closed his lips around it and sucked. He moved to the other breast and did the same, his fingers still moving in and out of me, my arousal rising higher and higher.

He drew back and knelt, spreading my legs. His hands closed around my ankles and he placed my feet against his chest, moving forward slightly so that my knees touched my chin and his cock slid against my open pussy. I reached between my legs and spread the outer lips of my pussy as he circled my clit with the blunt head of his cock. I moaned and pushed his hand lower, wanting him inside me. He followed my lead and with agonizing slowness entered me, his eyes closing as he filled me up.

I slid my hands out from between our bodies and used them to bring my knees back toward my ears. Hokuto tilted my hips slightly and began to move, his eyes opening again as he did. I looked up at his round face in the darkness, at the mixed expression there, the lust and admiration, and he smiled at me. I could tell by the way his jaw was set and the fact that he was barely moving in or out of me, just rocking with his cock buried deep, he was close to coming and trying to hold off as long as he could.

He moved one hand from my hip and touched my clit with his thumb. He pressed down against it firmly, moving in slow circles, keeping me on the very edge of the pleasure/pain divide. I gasped and dug my fingers into the flesh of my legs, squealing his name. He responded with a small noise and a quick but forceful thrust of his cock. He met my eyes and I saw him swallow hard, his thumb swirling more quickly, pressing harder, as his hips drew back a little further before another quick thrust filled me again.