“Oh, there is on more thing I do need to cover with you today… self-defense.”
Marlena casually puts her real earrings back on, and smiles, “Changing the subject. A very good way to avoid a mountain of questions.”
He ignores her comment, “Remember that technique; distraction. Don’t ever get caught off guard,” his voice is soft and warm, like fine Brandy, and the light tickle of his fingers trailing down her face feels lovely, “Now, even though I will be only a few seconds away, I want you protected.”
Marlena puts her arms around John’s neck, “I’ve had a few classes myself, you know?” She recalls her own brief experiences with physical defense, “Why don’t you show me what you got?”
Recognizing her challenge, he leans in close, “Oh, I’ll be glad to.”
With a precision that Marlena has not seen up close in some time, John twists her body over his shoulder, thrusting her upon her back unto the nearby sofa, though he is mindful not to cause her injury. The force combined with it’s unexpectedness startle her, and she cannot control her body’s natural reaction to scream in fright. Once the panic sweeps away, Marlena is able to laugh, as one does after a potential threat passes, and John joins her.
The soft laughter turns to light chuckles, until it all but disappears. John leans above her, dangerously close, and gathers her hands in his, resting them above her head. He tuts her marksmanship, “What are you doing?” he questions her, “You did not defend yourself.” He doesn’t wait for her to respond.
She shakes her head softly, “You will do anything to get me on my back, won’t you?”
Her meaning is clear, “Well, now, that’s a fact.” No sense in lying.
“I guess now I should try that distraction technique you talked about, huh?” she says the words, but at this point it is rather unclear whom is doing the distracting. John’s attempts at serious training are quickly pushed to the furthest recesses of his mind as his hands trace patterns along the hidden curves of her upper body, and her own hands join in, scratching lightly here and there, with just the right amount of pressure.
Through the haze that is beginning to overpower them, Marlena sobers for a moment, “Wow. I just love you.”
It is meant to be a light confession of her love, something she has told him a thousand times over, but this time, it strikes John differently. He cannot explain it, but a chill becomes him, and he is suddenly irrationally afraid for her, “You are everything to me. Everything to me,” his voice is slightly desperate, and the conviction with which he confesses her power over him, seeps into Marlena’s bones. And never before has she believed him more than this moment, this small, unexpected moment.
It is natural that with no conscious thought they both lean in, and their mouths find each other, as though running on pure instinct. Though nothing can banish the threat that seems to hover above them at all times, for now, they can forget, and share in what the other has to offer.
When he pulls back, he stares at her, eyes dark and slightly mad, but his intensity washes over her like some living force, and as she stares back, she briefly wonders what has happened to make her so susceptible to him. But then, she supposes, she always has been.
In seconds, he is on her once more, his hands struggling with the zipper on her unflattering tan colored top. He curses her mentally for wearing the blasted thing, wishing that velcro was fashionable. But the thoughts leave him once he feels the zipper give, and like the parting of the red sea, the haven of her naked flesh is revealed to him, supple, and glowing.
He takes a hand, and plays about the concavities, before reaching up to grasp at her bosom, full palms squeezing, encumbered by a lovely brassiere made of a pleasant transparent-like material. But he doesn’t have too long to admire it, as his hands unhook the constraints and leave her breasts free. His mouth is hot, his breath fast, panting declarations, his speech smothered as he buries himself in her chest to suck on a nipple, biting. She gasps her delight, and arches up, perhaps to give him better access. Her hands are on his head, in his hair, pulling him to her. She wants to enclose him, to enfold him. Somehow, she knows this will not be proper love making, as they sometimes do at night in the safe covers of their expensive bed, slow and languorous and good, but lustful sex, wild, and hot, and all the things that were against the rules. It reminds them what it is like to be purely sexual people.
Her long manicured nails struggle to find the hem of his simple shirt, grasping and stretching, until it finally gives and she is free to run her hands over the muscles that tense and jump in excitement. But soon he pulls away, to grab at the waistband of her pants, dragging them and her panties down her legs, so that she is gloriously naked and the scent of her excitement is noticeable, and more intoxicating than any liquor he has ever had. It calls to him, and Marlena does not expect it, jerking at the odd sensation of his tongue against her clitoris. Then she is gratified and pleasured all at once. He laps at every portion of her exposed sex, hands gripping her hips, and she cries out softly, gasping and whimpering. Sways against him, holding his shoulders, letting him eat her whole. One hand grips her head, tangling her own fingers in her hair, while her other lingers on her stomach, coming to play with a breast for a bit, before leaving to grip John’s head, leading him, encouraging him, thanking him. But he doesn’t linger there, just spending enough time to taste her essence and draw in her scent before moving up and on, kissing her belly, and various other points before reaching her mouth.
She lays back, her hands above her head, with a love-sick, pleasured smile on her face. She draws her white thighs around his clothed torso, and begins to grind against him. The pressure of the rough denim against her clit is glorious, and she feels she might cum. There is a low growl in the back of John’s throat, and hard-on in his pants becomes almost painful against the tight constraint. He can no longer stand it, and he moves away to rid himself of the offensive clothing, so he can share in her nudity. With a gentle hand, she takes hold of his penis and strokes it firmly, slipping its knotted muscle smoothly through her palm. He chokes a little with the pleasure and allows her palm to pump against him for only another few strokes before moving it away, elsewhere. She is taking him too far.
Somewhere, somehow, there is a ringing, and it is coming from somewhere near his head. It begins to crescendo until it is loud and present, breaking the spell momentarily. He sees it has the same affect on Marlena, as her eyes widen with the knowledge that it is her cell phone that is ringing. Fearing it might be one of the children, she raises quickly, pushing John back slightly, but he refuses to move from the couch.
Marlena finds her cell on the table just behind the sofa, and leans against the back of the couch on her knees as she answers the phone politely, though very much out of breath, “He-..hello… hello?” She finds it difficult to speak as John is suddenly behind her, his hands running slow circles along her smooth bottom.
The voice on the other line sounds familiar, but she can’t be sure. It takes a great amount of effort for her mind to recognize it as the voice of her daughter Belle. Her daughter speaks a million words a minute, and Marlena must admit she doesn’t understand a word. Just as she is about to speak, John’s hand comes firmly into contact with her left cheek, spanking her, leaving it nice and rosy. She jumps, with pain and excitement, and rather than words, she shrieks a bit into the phone, despite biting her lower lip to hold it.
“Mom, are you ok?” Belle asks. Her mother sounds strange.
John, now feeling truly devious, and impatient for her, pushes her legs apart, and bends her over slightly, rubbing the swollen head of his member against her tight opening, several times, but does not enter her. She knows he is teasing her. Arching back into him, Marlena loops her arm around his neck and tangles her fingers into his hair, as his face buries into her neck, his teeth biting into the skin of her throat, holding it gently for his tongue to tease while he suckles. Marlena flinches at the small pain, but does not push him away.
“Uh, Belle?” her voice is tight with the strain of having to vocally conceal her pleasure.
“Yes?” Belle ventures tentatively.
“Is everything ok?” her voice is faint now, but audible. John nuzzles at her with his penis, nudging against her silky heat and she wriggles against him, answering his need.
“Yes, but-“
“Is Brady ok?” She blurts. John is becoming anxious now, and with no warning, enters her roughly from behind, fast and hard until he is fully encased within her soft walls. She bites down on her fist to keep from crying out. After a moment, she slides back a protective hand across his buttocks, as though to make sure that he will stay inside her, deep and bonded.
“Yes, but I need-“
“Then, sweetie, I’m going to have to hang up on you,” Marlena does not bother with the formalities of saying goodbye and promptly ends the call, and turns off the phone as well.
Slowly, John begins to move within her, then pulling back, he slides out completely before slamming to the hilt in her warmth again. Gasping at the ruthless intrusion, Marlena clutches at the edge of the sofa, and finally allows herself to cry out, forcing her muscles to relax around the shaft, waiting for the next thrust. The sound warms his blood and John moans her name, repeatedly, as if it is the only word he knows.
Open-mouthed and gasping, totally lost in the sensations. Marlena is choking on her pleasure, her hair mussed up and crazy, her face a little pink, and then she laughs a little, catching herself, and their urgency, their wild rhythm, gently swells once again. All she feels is the pulse of him, deep inside her. All she feels is the thrill of being filled.
She cries as he brings her to climax, the fire licking up her belly and spreading to her thighs and beyond, and leans back to kiss him. He is hot, and sticky and swollen with lust. And so very male. She arches and wriggles her curves. So very female.
Running his fingers up her arm, he takes ahold of one of her hands, holding it firmly, and the simple gesture of having his fingers twined with hers suddenly has so much meaning as they copulate on their expensive furniture in the living room, with open windows and all the light shining through.
And he is still thrusting, seeking his release. John looks at her, her head leaning towards him on his shoulder, and the look on her face, and the sight of them joined further stimulates him, so he starts pushing hard again, the movement making a very satisfying squelch between them. She is warm, and the feeling it gives him is unbelievable, the bottoms of her thighs all sticky with their combined lubricant.
To help her along, a hand creeps down and finds her, and moves the digits expertly, bringing her to a second climax, just before he finally finds his own. He sucks in a hard, whistling breath through his teeth and grasps her against him, jerking his hips. The feeling is beautiful, and a new warmth rushes through them both, as his emissions are introduced to the liquid of their union.
Marlena hums her approval, her eyes drowsy. She feels radiant, swollen with it. She is glowing. Though she wishes they could stay this way, joined, she feels he is losing his rigidity, and sighs. They smile at each other for a moment longer, and then he backs off from behind her, sliding backwards, wincing a little, disengaging his body from hers. Without him, she feels sticky and wet, and little disgusting as it all cools, the scent of their sex ripe in the air, but most of all, she feels empty and a bit vulnerable. John senses this instinctually, snuggling up behind her, catching her in a bearhug and kissing the back of her neck, “I love you” the words are slightly smothered and nearly inaudible, but she understands. And it helps.
“That was quite a lesson,” she can’t help but comment on his method of teaching, “Am I to assume I’m supposed to use this, er, ‘distraction,’ as you call it, on Tony?”
John howls his laughter, “Marlena, don’t you dare!”
Finis
The Jarlena Journal 