Home sweet home, she muses as she steps closer towards the double doors that will soon open up to reveal her often tumultuous but nonetheless precious, beautiful life and adoring husband; the only man who can take away this bone deep loneliness she feels inside. She’s been without him, without his touch for nine months, two weeks, four days, fifteen hours and never-ending minutes… and the seconds just keep passing by. She misses him. In the most intimate of ways. As his lover, his wife, his soulmate. She needs him and yes, she’s horny. She can’t masturbate this away. She’s tried. She and John were not made to be celibate together.
Marlena Evans Black sighs heavily as she searches her purse impatiently for her keys. She’s on the brink of exhaustion having helped countless lost souls over the course of nine months. Now it is her selfless and weary soul that requires attention – the kind only her husband, best friend and lover can give. Understandably, she’s on edge – the thought of seeing him and being with him for the first time in a long time is constant and prevailing. It beats like a pulse in her sex, causing her folds to moisten and swell. She clenches her thighs, willing the tingling to stop – that familiar deep ache to go away; trying to force her body to remain unaffected by the mere thought of having him touch her there – slip his penis into her deepest, most private parts until she throbs from the fullness of him and quakes with his name on her tongue. Where are these goddamn keys??
During her time away, uncharacteristically, John has become distant and non-responsive. A far cry from the man she knows and loves. None of it makes sense in her mind, but she hasn’t been able to get ahold of him lately – to talk to him. They promised they would never take each other for granted again and they both meant it. In recent times, with Marlena’s shooting and subsequent poisoning, they were reminded of what they already knew to be true – they simply cannot live without one another. Marlena, for her part, didn’t accept this assignment lightly – certainly not without John’s incredible support. In fact, she had declined it at first. They had agreed to put each other above everything else. It was John who convinced her in the end to take it, having complete faith in them and in their love – they would make it work. They both knew the distance would be difficult but they vowed to each other to see it through, only half joking about the frequent phone sex they would have. What sealed the deal was when he suggested visiting her in Europe for at least a few months to minimize their time away from one another and to make whatever time was left without each other bearable. Promise me. He did.
Her heart aches for him in ways she couldn’t adequately convey in the 150 odd letters she wrote him over the course of her time in Europe. Every day brought on a new challenge and she needed him, her confidante. Penning her thoughts daily and knowing that he was reading them, albeit on the other side of the world, made her feel close to him. She wrote him about many things. About love. About him pushing his love inside her. Wanting to feel that ecstasy with him again – the united beat of their sex and heart. I’ve been wet for you. All day. Burdens meant to be shared only with him. Every day that dawned after that was a new day met with hope as she would check her mail with the excitement of a school girl, wondering if today would be the day she would see his strong, assured handwriting staining the stark white paper beneath it with his trademark moniker for her, Doc; the intimate words that would follow sure to score her heart and leave her reeling from orgasm with her fingers twisted in her sex while imagining it were him. Each day ended however, with her ultimately retiring to her bed heartsore, confused and half there. Most nights, there were tears.
It wasn’t like that from the beginning. No. They spoke every chance they had. Within a few weeks of her departure, they found themselves experimenting online. Whereas once upon a time they were copulating on polished conference room tables in a tangle of sweat and purple taffeta, it’s the 21st Century and virtual conference rooms are where love is at. Video enabled, of course. He always liked to watch. JB4ME@gmail.com has joined Skype. She teased him relentlessly for his screename although secretly, she loved it…
Clad only in his black drawstring pyjama pants which hang loosely on his hips, he locks their bedroom door to Hope who has become increasingly insufferable of late, pushing her wining and dining on him; one poor attempt after another to forge a closeness with him that every fibre of his being rejects. He is fast becoming tired of her advances and on those nights where all he wants to do is be alone and think of his wife, Hope’s attention has the effect of a cold shower.
He sits on their bed and runs his hand over Marlena’s pillow. “I miss you, baby,” he sighs. Terribly. Looking over to his nightstand, he smiles at the photo of the two of them illuminated by the soft light of the lamp. It was taken on their most recent trip to Sicily. He remembers that day; how happy and satiated they were. He’d made love to her until dusk loomed and she could take it no more. She sits on his lap at a seaside restaurant. Her lips are pressed into the hollow of his neck, eyes closed. You smell so good, she’d whispered. His smile and bright blue eyes tell the tale of the luckiest man in the world. Their laced fingers speak to their closeness. Right now, she couldn’t be further away and it would kill her to know it is all his doing in the name of protecting her. Picking up his laptop from his nightstand, he brings it to rest atop his thighs. He opens Skype and his heart sinks when he checks her status: last seen 2 mins ago. Damnit, he has just missed her. Ever the optimist, he types…
JB4ME: Got a minute to spare for your favorite spy?
He waits a few minutes, idly tapping the keyboard, impatient to see her. Just as he is about to give up and close the laptop lid, his efforts are rewarded when he sees drMEB is typing before a line of text pops up in the chat window.
drMEB: Hi Sailor. Got a patient waiting. Skype later? Miss you.
Ignoring her and without missing a beat, JB4ME wants to video chat.
drMEB has declined your video chat request.
JB4ME: 
drMEB: Baby, I don’t have time to play with you right now. Session in 10 mins.
JB4ME: I’ve made you cum in less.
drMEB: John!
JB4ME: That’s *exactly* how I remember it. Maybe a few more, Johns.
A minute passes by.
JB4ME: Doc?
drMEB: Sorry. Phonecall. BRB.
Not to be deterred… JB4ME: What are you wearing?
She smiles into her iPhone as she half listens to the caller on the other end, “sure. We can reschedule.” She taps at the keys with one finger. Black. Sheer lace.
JB4ME: They’d have been off and I’d have given you your first orgasm by now.
drMEB is typing…
drMEB: Third.
JB4ME: !!!
JB4ME: Your patient is going to have to wait. Answer my video call.
JB4ME: Marlena…
JB4ME: Now.
He’s serious.
His screen turns black before he is greeted with the sexiest, longest legs he’s ever had the pleasure of parting, as Marlena sets the laptop down on the coffee table before the couch. “Doc?” his blue eyes volley back and forth trying to get a glimpse of her, heart thumping with anticipation.
“Hi honey.” Her voice drifts to his ears as she walks past the screen, cut off at the edges of her black pencil skirt which stops just above her knees; her bare toned calves flex as she settles herself before him on the couch, knees together. Her pretty face comes into full view at last as she rests her chin in the palm of her hand, her long fingers framing her cheek; elbow on her knee.
“God, you look beautiful,” his voice is relaxed and comforting. He can’t help but notice the way her black silk cami clings to her breasts.
“Oh,” she exhales, tilting her head, taking in his glorious state of undress – completely distracted by what she sees. His chest, still so wonderfully masculine and sculpted, out in full display, is covered by hair that has already started to grey. She smiles appreciatively at him, “I see you’re way ahead of me.” Her eyes sparkle with amusement.
“I don’t know about that, Doc. Do you see all of your patients like that?”
She looks down at herself to where his eyes have now focused and becomes acutely aware of the tightness of her nipples which poke outward, seemingly right at him. Her breasts are free. Loose. Begging to be touched, played with. She grins at him and teases, “only a select few.” John feigns hurt. “Besides, it’s all your fault. This is the effect you have on me.”
He likes that answer. For his part, he is in awe of her sexuality; sometimes vulnerable, sometimes bold and confident, depending on her mood. After this morning’s activities, she felt liberated, carefree. He recognizes it in her cheeks that are still flushed pink from orgasm. She is glowing and oozing sensuality. This obviously carried through to her choice in wardrobe. He knows full well that this view is only for him; that her blazer will ultimately shield her from her patients. “If I could only touch them, touch you right now.”
She smiles at him wanly, “5 minutes, Sailor. That’s all you’ve got.”
“That’s not all, baby,” she watches intently as he slides his hand over the bulge between his thighs and takes firm hold.
“I see… ” she says distractedly, biting her lower lip and squirming slightly but perceptibly to John. Her pelvic muscles clench painfully in want; the thickness of him not too distant a memory. “Honey, do we really have time for this?” She’s hopeful but conscious of her patient waiting just outside her door in the waiting room.
John’s blue eyes sparkle mischievously at her and she knows he won’t let her go until she makes time. “Third orgasm, huh?” His voice is low. Affected. He’s completely intoxicated by the sight of her. Her hair is a little longer and a lighter blonde. She looks refreshed; her skin glows having been kissed by the European sun. Her shoulders are bare beneath the spaghetti strap cami. What he wouldn’t give to be able to drag his lips and slide his tongue against her skin. To taste her again.
“Yes,” the uninhibited sounds she made earlier this morning echo in her mind. John would have been beside himself.
“Want to tell me where?” His voice is soft and deep. His tone firm.
“In bed. Twice.”
“And?” He lifts his right arm to rest behind his head. He looks pleased. His biceps curl and flex and the movement alone triggers flashes of her most recent fantasies of him – the kind that cause her fingers to curl up deep inside her at night.
“Here. In my office,” she answers truthfully. “About an hour and a half ago,” she admits with a dreamy look on her face, “I was thinking about you and what it might be like to, you know…” she shrugs, looking straight into his eyes, as though it were the most natural conclusion.
Truthfully? It kills him. All the time he is missing. The fact that he can’t be there to share in that intimacy with her. He knows her body so well. While she enjoys pleasuring herself, and he certainly encourages it especially when he is her captive audience, it is an act of foreplay – for her, for him, the beneficiary doesn’t matter. He knows full well the toll self love has on her. It’s a temporary release she is not ashamed to admit leaves her frustrated and wanting. She needs him; the moments of wholeness only his passion can give her. He feels it every time she pulls him in to uncoil the residual orgasm wound deep and tight inside her from masturbation. To know that she needs him right now and that he can’t be there for her in that way, cuts him deep.
“Are you ok, baby?” He just wants to reach out and take her in his arms. Comfort her and then do things to her. Things only lovers do.
She shakes her head, “no.” She presses her lips together and he can see her speckled hazel eyes turn green and glassy. “I’ve been missing you a lot lately, and…” her voice cracks.
“And? Honey?” He sits up, concerned.
“Let’s not do this right now,” she manages to shut the floodgates as she closes her eyes and lays back into the couch arms crossed protectively across her middle, “we only have these few minutes. I’m just missing you is all.”
That familiar pang in his chest makes itself known. Without meaning to suggest that anything but the real deal is good enough for her, he wonders out loud, “what bout Gary?” His tone is sympathetic. He has no room to be jealous of his wife inserting a 7 inch long, 1.5 inch wide inanimate object inside her for pleasure – not when he has put them both in this situation in the first place and especially not since he was the one who bought the life-like dildo for her to make up for all those nights he left her to get in bed with the ISA. Ok, so maybe he has used it on her too, but that’s beside the point. Concentrate, John.
“I still miss *you*,” she emphasizes, frustration evident in her voice.
The guilt gnaws at him and he just hopes when this is all over she will understand. This is torture for him too but he’ll do anything to keep her safe. “I know, sweetheart. Me too.” There is a long pause. “Hey, I’m here now. Hmm?” he is hopeful she is still in the mood.
Marlena opens her eyes to see him smiling at her, warmed by his positivity and his desire to make her feel better.
“Why don’t you show me, sweetheart? Open your legs and show me where you need me.”
She nods in agreement and obliges, slowly shifting her hips and hiking her skirt up her thighs with both hands. John slides his hand inside his pants as he watches her twist her body to peel her panties off, letting them fall around her ankles.
“Are they wet?”He’s rewarded with glimpses of bare flesh here and there before her knees come together.
“Yes.”
He gives her the time she needs to set the scene. The silence between them is electric. His voyeurism, arousing.
“These last couple of weeks have been so hard without you, honey,” she starts as she slips her hand between her legs and digs, never breaking eye contact with him. “Gary can only do so much. I want you here… I need you inside me like I need air, baby. I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this…” she cries.
“Shhh, we’ll get through this, Doc. I’m here for you. I want to see how wet you are,” his voice is husky. Shaky. He strains so painfully to be inside her, he has to concentrate on his breathing and relax the tight grip he has on himself.
John inhales sharply when she spreads her legs to show him where she weeps with love. He is so intimately acquainted with this part of her and yet it’s like he’s seeing her again for the first time. His muscle twitches with the memory of being inside her. His nostrils flare at the memory of her scent. Watching her long delicate fingers slip in and around her fleshy, swollen folds, he imagines it is him; that his ultimate reward would be to breach with his penis the tight canal from which he once drew their precious lovechild. “Oh, god, the things you do to me, baby.”
Lately, the few times she was able to get through to him on his cell, her calls would be intercepted by Hope, one of their dearest friends and now house guest, who had apparently taken many liberties during Marlena’s absence, including answering John’s cell phone to apologize for his unavailability: he’s in the shower, he just stepped out to collect the mail, I promise to have him return your call. She never heard from him in person. She had just assumed she was no longer in range by the time he had returned the call. To say nothing of the numerous times she had tried calling his cell and it was switched off, going straight to voicemail. Emails, texts, you name it – they largely went unanswered. The deciding factor for Marlena was a few weeks ago when Hope picked up the landline only to inform her that unfortunately, John has been called off on an assignment and he won’t be coming to Europe as originally planned. He tried to get in touch with you on numerous occasions but he couldn’t get through and has asked me to relay the message if and when you called. Marlena’s instincts had kicked in long before that phone call. Every time Hope would answer the phone, she made sure to speak about John with a familiarity and closeness that made Marlena uneasy, never failing to throw veiled but barbed jabs about her “abandoning” John. It was time, she had decided, to make arrangements to end her residency abroad early…
And now here she is. Turning the key, Marlena pushes the door taking a bold step inside the townhouse only to be stopped dead in her tracks at the display before her.
Hope, scantily clad in a tasteless camisole, cups John’s hands around a goblet of wine, holding them and the vessel at her waiting mouth, beckoning him to quench her thirst in more ways than one.
John is looking at Hope purposefully. Determined. His arms outstretched – keeping her at a distance she would and has moved Heaven and Earth to cross… starting by drenching herself in expensive wine earlier so she can undress for his benefit and create this very moment. Nothing about Hope arouses him. Not even when she is not playing the role of a Princess who is so desperately in love with him. It is no coincidence that John Black has denied himself his wife for months. It was a decision that has cost him dearly up until now. Having been tipped off on Stefano and Hope‘s plan to destroy them, he chose to bring the enemy into his own home, under his close watch, primarily to protect Marlena. If he can save their friend from her alter ego in the meantime, that will be an added bonus. His plan would have come undone if he hadn’t ultimately convinced Marlena to take the job in Germany. It took every ounce of strength he had to change her mind when his heart just wanted to keep her close. It also took a lot of sex, more than usual, in the lead up to her departure. He was sore and could barely walk straight for weeks.
At every turn, John is one step ahead. Hope’s home flooding? While Hope capitalized on it, using it as the perfect opportunity to move in with John, John caused it, anticipating the result. Marlena’s offer of a long-term residency program? While legitimate, Hope and Stefano had lined the pockets of a Professor abroad to ensure Marlena’s acceptance and to ultimately do their bidding. John Black’s pockets however, are bottomless when it comes to protecting Marlena. The Professor sold his soul to the highest bidder and is now playing Stefano and Gina like a fiddle and reporting directly to John. So too are the other dozen or so ISA agents surrounding Marlena at any given moment around the clock. In the end, her anger is something John is prepared to take the brunt of.
The poker face he gives Hope is the result of many years of ISA training. This Princess has nothing on him; Stefano’s Pawn. Gina, you will not succeed. His blue eyes are torn from the expectant gaze of his desperate houseguest to his front door where his wife now stands, confusion written all over her beautiful face. She’s ethereal.
“Am I interrupting something?” Marlena asks testily. She is tired after a long flight and frankly, frustrated and wet for her husband.
John’s mind whirrs with this unexpected turn of events and he wonders momentarily what the fuck his ISA agents are doing “guarding” Marlena but for the life of him, he can’t contain his elation at seeing his gorgeous wife again. In openmouthed shock, he practically shoves the glass at Hope, splashing the expensive wine all over her for a second time as he pushes past her and stumbles over the coffee table to get to Marlena – his heart ready to explode. “Oh my God! You’re home!” he exclaims in utter disbelief as he takes her in his strong arms and crushes her body to his. Safe. He’s been getting updates from his ISA contacts daily. It’s not the same as seeing it for himself. The fruit of his sacrifice stands before him. She’s ok.
He reminds her of Belle on Christmas morning – big blue eyes full of excitement; a smile from ear to ear. Marlena falls into his embrace, letting him take all of her weight. She sighs contentedly grabbing fistfuls of his blue shirt, willing herself not to cry, finally feeling like she is truly at home. Burying her face into his neck, shielded from Hope, she giggles, giddy from his very masculine scent and the feel of him against her, “I’m home, baby,” she whispers into his skin placing an openmouthed kiss there, letting her tongue linger against it. Mmmm, you taste so good.
John’s spine tingles at the sight and feel of her. He has missed her scent, her mind, her body. Leaning back to take her in, he secures Marlena’s face between his large hands, brushing his thumb against her cheek. He licks his lips as he eyes hers before diving in. He is famished. He has been hungry for her since the moment she left and she’s even more beautiful than he remembers. Now here she is, with him, and all he can do is give into his body’s natural response anytime she is near.
Pushing his insistent tongue past her soft lips, he encourages her to reciprocate with the same fervor and passion. For a moment, she lets herself get lost in him. He controls this. Her face is nestled securely in the palm of his hands at just the right angle. He has spent 33 years perfecting kissing this woman. He has it down to a fine art. And those times she wasn’t his to kiss, he spent dreaming about kissing her. She can taste his need every bit as much as the wine that lingers on his tongue and lips. He’s possessive, desperate almost; his breath hot against her. His hands eventually find her bottom and squeeze her to him through her light grey sweatpants. Marlena moans leaning into it; into him. Try as she might, she is hyper-aware that Hope is standing there watching them; probably hearing John groan into her mouth and watching him grind his pelvis against hers, trying to get closer to her still. Between John’s telltale twitching against her thigh and her damp panties, Marlena can’t concentrate with Hope within ear and eyeshot. She feels seen in her most vulnerable need. With no little regret, she puts her hands over John’s and softly extricates herself from his grasp. Slackening her tongue against his, she leaves a wet lingering kiss on his lips. “I’ve missed you,” she says softly, nose to nose, mouth to mouth, opening her hazel eyes to search his. John’s nostrils flare as her arousal stimulates his senses. “I adore you,” he responds fervently, breath shaky, leaving no room for doubt in her mind, “and I’ve missed you more than words can say, sweetheart.” It’s a very private moment despite the third wheel in the room that is straining to hear. John and Marlena get lost in each other all over again as he touches her face with his fingertips and gently strokes her now flushed cheeks with this knuckles, coming down gently to brush the pad of his thumb across her swollen lips. She kisses his thumb. God, how he loves this woman. He is gazing at his wife in awe, as though she were a figment of his imagination and yet the only woman in the world. Her beautiful hazel eyes search his before travelling all over his body taking him in; she loves every part of him – his grey hair, freshly trimmed, pouted lips and muscular frame. He is such a beautiful specimen and he is all hers. They lean in again, unable to control themselves, this time placing soft kisses on each other’s lips, whispering sweet nothings, behaving like besotted teenagers.
Hope looks on, extremely upset at the sight of John and Marlena’s intimacy. So lost in each other, as if no time had passed and her machinations were all for nothing. If she had the physical strength, she is sure the crystal wine glass would have shattered beneath her tight grip by now. It is clear to her that if it weren’t for Marlena’s self awareness, John would have taken his wife then and there against the door, their audience an afterthought. His hands are all over her, in her hair, tracing her face, lingering on her lips, seeking her skin beneath her clothes. Not to mention how his eyes are transfixed on her and he can see no one else.
ENOUGH! The spell is broken when Hope clears her tobacco laden lungs. Marlena freezes against John, stepping away from him as she looks down at the floor and tucks her hair behind her ear, admittedly a little bemused by Hope’s obvious annoyance. Her lips and entire body throb from her husband’s nearness. She feels alive again. She is not sorry. John too is reminded they have company and steps aside and behind Marlena, hoping the bulge in his pants isn’t too obvious. Raising her head finally, Marlena addresses the disgruntled interloper, unimpressed herself. “Hope. How are you?”
Not to be outdone, Hope returns Marlena’s glare. Ignoring her question (who has time for niceties?) between gritted teeth, Hope states the obvious, “you’re back so soon.” Straight to the point.
Marlena smiles knowingly, seeing the jealousy she expected to find there. Her instincts were not wrong. You want my man. “I am Hope. I am home for good. We have a new director now and arrangements have been made for me to finish my residency in Salem…” Marlena reaches back instinctively and laces her fingers between John’s, delivering the final blow, “by my husband’s side.” John squeezes her fingers between his tightly. He is practically beaming, “that’s such great news, Doc!” Although, I’m going to have to fix this somehow. Smiling at Hope, John proclaims, “I have my wife back!” It is clear to Hope that this man is so genuinely happy in this moment and head over heels in love with his wife.
Hope gets ahold of herself realizing how obvious her behavior is and feigns excitement for John’s sake, “that’s wonderful news,” she concurs as she rushes towards Marlena to hug her, playing the role of the lifelong friend. John studies Hope. Her switch from pure annoyance to feigned delight does not go unnoticed by him and is exactly what he was expecting.
He feels Marlena stiffen at the encounter and step back into him when Hope releases her. Letting go of her hand, he begins rubbing her upper arms in an attempt to relax her. She seems quite tense and if he knows his wife at all, her instincts are on fire. She is starting to piece it all together for herself.
Marlena thanks Hope and resolves to deal with her, preferably by throwing her out, in the morning. For now, she is extremely tired and would just like to get in the shower and sleep (or not) in her own bed with her husband.
Without another word to Hope, Marlena turns to John with a smile reserved just for him, slips her hand into his and tells him, “I’m wiped out, honey. I think I am going to get in the shower and go to bed.” With the palm of his hand in the small of her back, John pulls her close not caring for discretion, “and I think I’m going to get in the shower with you,” he swipes impatiently at her mouth with his, biting her lower lip teasingly. Hope can hear their hushed tones and their giggling, “and then I think I am going to go to bed with you,” he leans in for another kiss, tongue lingering. Trying to remain unaffected, Marlena signals towards Hope, reminding him they have a guest. John, not phased in the slightest, leans into Marlena’s ear and whispers… “you’ll be sure to be extra quiet then.” Marlena swats at him as they both laugh out loud, turn to Hope and say goodnight to her, walking towards their bedroom hand in hand.
As their laughter echoes down the hallway and becomes more and more distant, Hope’s blood pressure reaches boiling point. She ungracefully gulps down the rest of the wine (why waste it?) and without thinking twice, she smashes the wine glass against the nearest wall.
“Oh dear. Better clean that up.”
——
Their bedroom is dimly lit. A quiet nervousness has descended upon them both. After all, it has been a while.
Marlena is rummaging through one of the smaller suitcases John has placed on the bed, trying to find anything at this point to sleep in after their shower. In truth, she is probably not going to sleep for a while and if and when she does get to sleep, she’ll be wearing nothing but him. It’s just something to do to occupy her racing mind and heart. She can’t be sure where they stand and she has many unanswered questions.
John, for his part, is in the ensuite setting the water for their shower. He has waited for this moment it feels like, forever. He can’t remember the last time he was this turned on. With the water now running hot, he steps into their bedroom to find Marlena leaning thighs first into the bed, busying herself with her clothes. He can’t help but admire her beautiful body clad in sweatpants and a simple white T. Her curves are pronounced even in something so casual. Coming up behind her, he presses into her heavily, sandwiching her between him and the bed. His breathing is heavy – unmistakable – his face buried in her neck and hair. Every fibre of his being wants her. He moans at the contact and wraps his arms tightly around her, the underside of her breasts now resting heavy on his forearms. She is so soft and pliant and willing. He is hard and alive. She gives up on the clothes strewn before her and leans back into him on her tip toes, stretching her neck back over his shoulder and sighing. Lightly running her nails back and forth over his forearms, she relishes in the feel of his arms holding her so securely against him. No words are needed in this dance they have begun. Casting all of her doubts aside, Marlena offers her mouth up to him for a sensual kiss. He leans down to oblige, thoroughly exploring her with his tongue. It’s wet and soft and unrushed – in the quiet of the room, their lips smack together as they swallow each other up. Seemingly unable to get enough, they spend minutes like this digging in each other’s mouth, making up for lost time. Eyes closed and mouth occupied, John makes the first move, running his hands over the cotton of her T and diligently kneading her heavy breasts through the fabric. He breaks the kiss. “How I’ve missed these.” She stretches against him purposefully, her bottom grinding into him, and hums her approval in his mouth. His approval is steadily mounting in his pants and digging into her backside as he realizes she is without a bra. John continues to squeeze her mounds as their bodies find their rhythm against one another. Marlena’s movements are somewhat restricted, adding to her sexual frustration. John eventually brings both hands up under her T shirt and helps her divest herself of it. He wants to feel the unrestricted heaviness of her warm breasts, the raised tenderness of her nipples. Skin on skin. Looking over her shoulder admiring their perfect gradient, he pinches and pulls at her nipples until they pebble between his fingers, “that’s better.” She moans softly as he guides one hand down her abdomen, teasing and tracing lazy patterns across her skin until he finds the waistband of her sweats. It tickles. She squirms against him. “It’s been so long, Doc,” he whispers into her ear, licking her earlobe and taking it between his teeth. She smells divine. He can hear her breath quicken. “I have craved this,” he confesses as he pushes his hand under the waistband and further down between her warm buttery thighs, delving into the velvet puddle between her lips, past the wiry patch of curls. “Oh god, Doc,” he responds to her wetness. She’s thick with it. “Mmmmmph, Honey,” Marlena gasps, sagging against his hand as he rubs her folds, their bodies now moving against each other erotically. He fingers and probes her there for long minutes, circling and pinching her swollen nerve bundle before straightening two fingers and ramming them up into her. Hard.
Hope has cleaned up the shattered glass leaving not a trace and she is walking by John and Marlena’s bedroom when she hears Marlena’s piteous cry. “John! Uhh!” It stops her dead in her tracks. It was a muffled sound coming from behind the closed door, but she swears she heard it. Tiptoeing to their bedroom door, she slides up against it like a snake, setting her ear on the cool solid timber. Silence. Maybe she is mistaken? Shrugging it off, she is about to retreat when she hears it again, “oh god, Joh… honey! Mmmph..ffuck.” Hope’s eyes almost bulge out of her head as she steadies herself against the door. She couldn’t imagine Marlena… “Please. I need to feel you inside,” she manages to choke out, “no more games.”
John roughly pulls Marlena’s sweatpants and panties down to her knees in one swift practised movement and bends her right over the bed, filling his hands with her naked breasts as he forces her face down into the mattress with the full weight of his own body, digging his pelvis into her…
Hope tries the door handle and is surprised when it gives way. Unlocked. She can’t help herself. She is hoping to see anything that will belie the kind of passion and love people say John and Marlena have. From her vantage point, through the crack in the door, her view is essentially unobstructed. She can see John’s large naked frame looming over Marlena’s comparatively slight frame. His body is a temple really. How could it not be, the way he works out? His pants are around his ankles and he has Marlena bent over their bed, legs spread before him. At his mercy. The sounds are loud and clear now without the solid timber door as a barrier and Hope feels as intrusive as though she were standing right there next to them. Marlena is whimpering softly – writhing atop the comforter. Hope watches John reach out to touch Marlena all the while looking down at himself, stroking his thick member purposefully. Hope can sense his eagerness. It’s in the charged air around them. It’s in his jerking motions. Turned on by the sight of his wife before him, he is large, extremely rigid and liable to do damage. He can’t ready himself quick enough. The sounds coming from him are primal as the beginnings of his copious arousal spurt forth, splattering heavily and indiscriminately onto Marlena’s lower back and their comforter. For a moment, Hope thinks he is about to come. His ass cheeks are clenched, his thighs pure sculptured pistons. His biceps flex with the disciplined chore of jerking yet taming his muscle. He knows how to reign himself in. He is hard and full and he wants nothing more than to release himself into his wife and make her cum. Not just anybody. Her. This woman who has captivated him for all of time. He watches her desperately try to bring on her own orgasm as she rubs herself against the comforter, slowly but surely humping it. Hope looks on as John verbally admonishes Marlena for her impatience, stilling her with one hand pressed firmly in the small of her back and the other sliding under her, disappearing between her and the mattress. Marlena’s raised bottom begins to undulate like a wave against the bed and John’s hand. Concentration lines are etched deeply across his forehead; his jaw set as he focuses on pleasuring his wife. Hope knows that he has struck gold when Marlena arches her pelvis away from the mattress and cries out into the comforter taking fistfuls of it with both hands as he fingers her to climax. With his free hand John spreads Marlena’s ass cheeks, revealing the little dark puckered hole at the top. He dives in with his mouth, burying his face and nose in her. His moans are muffled as he eats her out. Pulling his wet fingers from her, he traces them around the little hole, anointing her with her own juices. When he considers that is not enough, he stands fully, positioning his tip to lubricate her further with his pre-cum. She struggles against him a little as he holds her firmly in place. “Baby, we need this,” he pleads, nudging her impatiently between her cheeks with his penis, voice cracking and unsteady, becoming urgent. “I need you like this. Please.” This is one of their most gratifying positions and his excitement is palpable. He hasn’t been inside her this way in a while. “You know it feels good in here, baby.” Marlena whimpers plaintively in response, wriggling her ass in front of him, knowing what is coming – knowing she can’t stop it, not sure she wants to. Hope swallows past the dry lump in her throat. She doesn’t ever remember being with a man like this. Not as Gina and certainly not as Hope. Anal is just not in her repertoire. Her scrawny eyes are glued to the scene before her in complete and utter fascination. Marlena’s gorgeous, long limbs squirm beneath John’s powerful frame as he continues to stroke her asshole, alternating between his fingers and the tip of his penis, working hard to convince her while starting to push in slightly and pull out to help her adjust and relax around him. Something about Marlena, esteemed psychiatrist, bent over like this, waiting to receive her husband, allowing him to give it to her this way, blows Hope’s mind. She has read somewhere it can be quite painful without some preparation – if there were any doubt, this is becoming increasingly evident to her from Marlena’s very vocal, plaintive responses to John’s probing. But she wouldn’t know from personal experience. John and Marlena have also been apart for months which wouldn’t make this any easier even with vaginal penetration she would imagine.
Marlena begs now; cries out to John to put it in raw as she steadies herself on her elbows and crawls to her knees giving him better access and leverage. “No protection,” she pleads looking back at him, touching him, knowing he’ll be reaching for the drawer any moment. “I need to feel you.” He squeezes both of her ass cheeks hard, kneading them, no doubt bruising her as he reassures her, “just me, baby.” With her rear tilted up at this angle, he takes the opportunity to slide his member between her labial lips, seeking to sheath himself in her natural lubricant, “hhhhh, you’re so wet it drives me crazy.” He’s tempted to just slide up inside her like he normally would, to feel the natural cushioning of her lips as he thumps her. They bump and move against each other like primitive animals. Marlena rubs herself against him until he’s gone and she’s left fucking thin air. Parting her again with his pelvis pushed forward, he positions himself, bracing for her tightness, asking her to still, “slow down for me, baby.” In a low voice, he begins to profess over and over how much he loves her and how much he has missed sex with her like this as he curls an arm around her waist and forces his engorged penis into her asshole past its tip, stretching her, bringing their bodies inexorably together. Hope hears Marlena’s sharp cry of pain and the slapping of John’s sweaty thighs against the back of Marlena’s, signalling his full incursion into her body. “I’ve needed you,” he grunts against her. Marlena is visibly paralyzed, mouth open but unable to generate sound as she throws her head back, the column of her long neck taut and liable to snap. John wraps his fingers securely around her throat with one hand applying enough pressure to leave an imprint, and then rams himself in to the hilt one more time. “Oh! God!” she chokes out, swallowing hard, unable to breathe, almost blacking out from the pain of being cleaved this way; lightheaded from a lack of oxygen. Needing a minute, her head rolls forward, hair tumbling forth, her breaths coming short and sharp from her open mouth as she whimpers. John is hard, hot and demanding inside her. He slides his hand down from her neck along her spine, kneading her. Her back is slick with perspiration. It is not lost on Hope how attentive John is with Marlena in this moment. He stills against her, becoming gentle again, afraid he has hurt her, curling his entire body around her, brushing her luscious blonde locks aside and kissing her shoulder blades as she continues to whimper on all fours; he croons and coaxes her to relax around him with his loving words, apologizing over and over while rubbing the small of her back and tailbone with one hand as though it will ease the discomfort he has caused her inside, snaking the other down her front, stroking her clitoris and fingering her to keep her excited. He has to work hard to keep her wet there and it’s taking everything he has not to thrust forward to relieve the unbelievable pressure on his cock. He can feel Marlena resisting. “Relax around me, baby. Let me show you how much I love you.” Hope can hear Marlena’s muffled cries and panicked professions of love as John talks her through it with a contrasting gentleness, promising to make it up to her, promising to make it all better. She sees John reach for the drawer as he consoles his wife, pulling out a tiny shiny gold object. He reassures Marlena that it’s ok and instructs his baby to push back on him slowly and at her own pace when she is ready. “God! John?” She startles when she feels his hands between hers legs before the sharp sensation of cool delicate metal clamping down onto her clitoris. Painfully. “Oh!” Unexpectedly. “Please!” Wild from his stimulation of her body, she doesn’t even know what she’s begging for anymore. He’s so far up inside her and yet she needs him. She’s afraid she mightn’t get enough. “I need you, John.”
“Shhhh, it’s ok, baby, I’m here.” She starts gently rocking her tail. “That’s my girl,” he encourages her, touching her between the legs, and stroking her thighs as he feels her muscles begin to give around him and take more of him in. Marlena moans and exhales hotly, making small mewling sounds that turn John on even more as he straightens up against her and begins rolling his ass before sliding in and out again, slowly at first, “ughhnn!” They’ve done this dance before. From their body language, this much is clear to Hope. This is the moment they wordlessly decide they’re going to work together and push past the pain towards the splintering climax. John is grunting against Marlena, vocalizing her name through gritted teeth as he begins to pump furtively inside her – deeper and deeper, faster and faster. Being sealed to her from behind like this does something to his libido. Their movements are jarring, not gentle. The sounds coming from them, from their bodies, exquisitely raw and vulgar. He knows he’s being rough by the way his name tears at her throat, but she feels so fucking good and any fleeting remorse he has is quashed when Marlena braces herself and reaches behind her to clutch and dig her nails into his ass to pull him even deeper inside. “Don’t stop,” she pleads. “Oh, John! Harder!” Sweat soaked bodies collide and glisten in the dim light and the hot shower which has become white noise by now for all three occupants of the room is still running in the bathroom, adding to the steam already being generated by their heated bodies. John repeats Marlena’s name over and over like a litany in church and Marlena answers his prayer word for word as he pounds into her harder and shorter and faster with reckless abandon.
Hope can’t believe her eyes. Marlena’s raw vocalizations aren’t the only evidence of the pounding she is receiving from her husband. Her entire frame visibly shudders from John’s relentless thrusts, the headboard taps and chips at the wall. Marlena’s breasts jiggle hard with John’s assault as gravity pulls them down, nipples puckered and straining painfully for his attention, thighs toned and stiff, knees digging deep into the mattress and creating the resistance her lover needs. Love. That’s what this is. Raw and uninhibited. It couldn’t be clearer to Hope. John loves Marlena. It’s that simple. His hands are moulded to her hips, guiding her and keeping her in place as he drives himself inside. Face scrunched up in pleasure, he looks down and watches as his gristle cleaves his wife, in and out, in and out, his every thrust harder than the one before, his throat burning from the exertion of having run a marathon, Marlena’s every scream louder than the one before, and before and before as she encourages him breathlessly, “harder, honey… oh!” and it’s John’s undoing. “Ughn, fuck!” It all just comes crashing down around them in a cacophony of sound and splintering light as they lose themselves in each other not knowing where one begins and the other ends. John bleeds himself dry inside Marlena – string after string of his cum filling her and spilling out of her as they cry out together for long minutes. She gushes with his own gelatin, matting his pubic hair and coating his balls as they collapse into a trembling heap of cum, sex induced perspiration and tangled limbs. Breathless and completely spent, John seeks Marlena’s sex, slipping a finger between her lips, needing to feel the evidence of her climax. He’s not disappointed. Marlena sighs shakily as she feels John unclamp the 24 karat gold from her clitoris and begin to softly finger her as his teeth graze her neck and shoulder. Hope decides at that moment as the two bodies come down trembling against each other on the bed, that she can no longer handle the sensory overload or the post coital sounds coming from them. She’s frustrated and envious. Closing the door quietly, she bolts to her room covering her ears in the hope that she will drown out the screaming voices inside her head. It dawns on her… Their bond is something with which she cannot and never could compete. Picking up her cell phone, she dials a number. It’s me. Gina.
“Steffy, you must act now!” she demands after having updated him on her situation. She’s desperate to have Marlena eliminated from the picture, the image of her and John having sex still burning her retinas and slowly eating away at her brain. “It is time that you reclaim your Queen of the Night and I take my rightful place by John Black’s side…” She taps the screen impatiently, effectively hanging up. She is in a diabolical mood and there is no room for argument.
—
They lay spent and exhausted in a tangled heap on crumpled sheets, muscles shaky and twitching like jello from overexertion. The only sound echoing in the dark now is that of labored breaths – her chest heaves against the mattress, his expands against her bare back while he’s still inexorably inside. His hand cups her intimately, fingers pressed firmly between her lips, aware that it is a part of her he largely neglected in the urgency of their first time together. She is reminded of where his efforts were concentrated when she feels his muscle jerk. She’s extremely sore, but satisfied by him in the most exquisite of ways. Her body will throb and remind her for days to come of his passion.
Having regained some composure, John, concerned that Marlena has taken all of his weight for too long, rolls off her, but not before dragging the skin in the hollow of her neck with his teeth and tongue. She’s salty and sweet all at once and he loves that he’s the cause of it. Marlena feels him tug at her tender insides as he slides out gingerly. The warmth of his body now gone, she shivers.
“That,” he takes a deep breath in filling his lungs, “was amazing,” he finishes, staring up at the ceiling, extending his arm to run his fingers lightly up and down her spine – always needing to touch her. His wedding band glistens softly with each stroke along her curves. Turning his head to look at her in silent wonderment, he finally finds his words, “you are incredible, Doc. One in a billion.”
“Mmmm,” Marlena hums, satiated and grinning like a cheshire cat as she turns over to face her husband. He satisfies her like no other. Muscles she had long forgotten she had, ache in protest. “That was some workout,” she purrs.
“For your vocal cords too, sweetheart,” John smiles appreciatively, running a finger down the delicate column of her neck where he can already see the start of some bruising. He cringes for having done that to her in the heat of their passion. “I’m going to have to cover that up,” she giggles and he is suddenly triggered by that sound, by the many sounds he evokes from her – she is his. Every single part of her. He reaches up to play with a gold tendril of hair that has fallen over her beautiful face, darkening her features. The infinite gold flecks in her hazel eyes sparkle at him and he revels in her, “happiness looks good on you.” “It’s you,” she counters, “you make me happy,” leaning into him to kiss his mouth.
As they come apart, his blue eyes fall to her ample breasts and he grins lasciviously at her, “happiness is being inside you,” he says brushing his thumb across a darkened nipple. Marlena’s breath catches in her throat at the intimate contact. She leans into him voice low with desire, “I want your hands on my body again.” John inhales deeply, flattening the palm of his hand firmly over her breast when his eyes suddenly grow big. The sound of running water filters through their intimacy. “Hold that thought!” John, looking sheepish, jumps up and out of bed to turn the running water off. Marlena laughs heartily, all the while staring at his retreating backside appreciatively. He has a great ass, though marred with the deep grooves her nails have left on his cheeks. Intending to make love to her all night without protection, he seizes the opportunity to shower himself. It’s not something he would normally do after sex with Marlena if not for the way he just penetrated her and if not for wanting to make love to her again. He reappears moments later dabbing himself dry with a white towel, eager to get back into bed with his wife… He stops and smiles, realizing she’s fallen asleep. She must be exhausted.
He’s happy just to look at her for a while; take her in. Touch her, make sure she’s real. He can’t believe she’s in his arms again, in his bed – their bed – that they’re breathing the same air. A light cotton sheet barely covers her, leaving him with tantalizing glimpses of the body he knows, loves and craves like no other. The body he took while it was promised to another. The body that was his inspite of that promise. Her elongated spine curves elegantly into the smooth, full mounds of her partially exposed buttocks. The deep arch in her back raises them to prominence and he’s reminded of the graceful way her body moves against his during the countless times he has taken her from behind. And those legs. When they’re wrapped around him and he’s buried deep between them. Mmmph. She has fallen asleep with her head on his pillow, her incredible blonde mane splayed across it and tousseled from great sex. Her arms are curled under her, pouted lips begging to be kissed by him. Dropping his towel on the floor with a quiet thud, John climbs onto the bed and slides in carefully next to her. She looks so peaceful having gravitated to his side. His male ego swells when he sees the tiny goose pimples form across her skin in response to the slightest of touches. “Mmmmmm, honey?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Come here, baby,” he reaches out to her inviting her to lay with him. Marlena obliges, sleepily going in for a lingering, wet kiss. “I love you,” she tells him before pulling one leg up over his thighs and sighing contentedly as she lays her head on his chest just below his chin. “I love you too, baby.” “Mmmm, you smell so good.” His fresh scented body wash exalts her senses. Tangling his fingers up through her thick hair with his left hand, John groans and takes a fistful as she begins raking her nails through his grey chest hair, tracing lazy patterns across his pectoral muscles and circling his nipples. Whether naked or fully clothed, this is a position they have assumed countless times over the years. He loves it when she slides her hand into his pyjama top or under his t-shirt at night. Marlena hears the deep rumble in his chest when her thigh hedges upwards brushing against his tender, now slackened manhood. It feels heavy; pliable. She’s tempted to show him just how much she loves him with her mouth. He runs his free hand across her bent leg, massaging and grasping at the underside of her thigh, keeping her firmly in place. Later, baby. He can’t handle any direct stimulation right now. Getting the hint, Marlena concedes, instead sliding herself up in an attempt to get comfortable against him, her body touching his at every juncture – breasts pressed firmly against his chest. Mischievously, she “dry” humps his thigh as she settles against him, leaving no doubt in his mind that she’s slick and wet with the remnants of their sex.
Their sex has never been better. Their connection, never stronger. He feels it to his core. John’s never had this with anyone else in his life and he doesn’t take it for granted. Marlena is quiet and contemplative – so small in his arms – still throbbing deep inside where he’s been. She flinches a little when his hand begins roaming over her rear. “I didn’t hurt you did I?” he worries, thinking how out of control and rough he was with her earlier and how sore she must be. It’s never something planned but almost always an act dictated by how turned on John is and how dominant he’s feeling. He’d never force it on her. After so many years together they’ve become adept at reading each other – what they like, what they don’t like, what they want or how far they’re willing to push it in that moment. She’s naturally tighter there and they’ve established that she likes it. Years ago, on one occasion, they’d worked each other up, lounging on the couch, touching and kissing whilst taking some time for themselves. The kids were out playing with their friends, the risk of them coming bounding through the front door at any moment quite high. She was super horny and on her period but warned him they’d have to stop. He understood this until they both reached the point of no return. He was so hard for her, his need and desire overwhelming, that he flipped her over the back of the couch nudging her bottom urgently, suggestively, “let’s try it in here, baby.” She was willing. She had once told him she would try anything with him once. The intimacy it created between them was new. When after long minutes they’d gotten past the initial discomfort of being together this way and he gave her her first spine shattering anal orgasm, all bets were off. They were giddy for days having found this new level of intimacy with each other. Smiling at his tenderness she responds honestly, “a little. But it felt good. You feel so good inside me, baby,” she says, kissing his skin, “I’ve missed us.” He squeezes her to him tightly and closes his eyes, “me too, Doc.” Flicking at the hairs on his chest contemplatively, Marlena can’t help herself as her mind wonders back to her time away and how alone she felt when clearly, things have not changed between them and she couldn’t be surer about John’s feelings for her.
“Honey?” she ventures.
“Mmmmm?” John is utterly content right now and savoring every moment.
“I’ve never felt closer to you,” she admits quietly, staring out at the twinkling night lights of the city through the French doors to their balcony.
“It feels like you never left,” he responds kissing her hair reverently, touching her everywhere all at once. “I’ve never loved you or needed you more,” he declares rubbing his thigh into her center.
She hesitates slightly, distracted by his movements and wanting nothing more than to let him start inflicting his love on her, in her, all over again, but she can’t help herself… “What’s happened to us these last few months?”
John opens his eyes, eyebrow arched. His hand stills in Marlena’s hair. Of course he saw this coming. He knows what she means, what she’s getting at and he knows he owes her the truth. He just hopes that for her own safety she is on board with it and won’t bring him any resistance. It’s time they work together on this. They’ve both suffered enough. He wonders if it isn’t too late and if he hasn’t hurt her beyond repair. How can he convince her that he just wanted to protect her from Stefano, from Gina… from the world? “Sweetheart, life…”
Cutting him off, her soft, gentle voice travels up to his ears, her breath tickling his chest, “life? Life stopped for me.” She swallows past the lump in her throat. “My time away from you was so difficult. I *needed* you. I just don’t understand why you didn’t…”
“Shhh. I know, baby,” he tightens his grip on her and sighs. How is he even going to begin to explain this?
Marlena can’t handle the closeness between them anymore. It’s suffocating. She pulls away from him, feeling extremely vulnerable all of a sudden and needing some distance. Sitting up, she wraps the sheet around her and faces him – wanting him to look her in the eye while she levels her accusations at him. She has all of his attention. He owes her that much. “I tried calling, texting, emailing, you name it.” Her eyes grow big. “I didn’t hear from you in person for *months*. All I got from you was messages through third parties. Hope kept answering your cell and the home phone. Any time I needed you, she was there. You couldn’t tell me yourself that you were canceling our planned trip? It wasn’t important for me to know you had been called away on an ISA mission? This woman, our close friend,” Marlena makes quotation marks with her fingers at the offensive word causing the sheet to slip from her flushed body. John can’t help but look. Unbothered and undeterred, Marlena continues her tirade, “would tell me how lonely you were, how I left you high and dry, how grateful you were to her for her moving in with you to see you through this tough time, insinuating that you had shown your gratitude to her in more ways than one.”
He lets her unleash all her pent up worry, confusion and frustration. John tries reaching out to her a couple of times but she swats him away, knowing all he can do is sit there and take it. It is well deserved, he knows that. He is not surprised by any of it. He knows exactly what Hope has been up to all of these months and he went along with it so as not to arouse suspicion in Hope and endanger Marlena in any way. He has seen the text messages, read the emails, listened to all the voicemail and flicked through the call logs before Hope had the opportunity to delete any of it. He has stood around the corner eavesdropping time and time again, while Hope answered his phone and taunted Marlena, wanting nothing more than to hear his wife’s voice and tell her that everything would be ok. He had to make Hope believe she was succeeding in her plan to destroy them.
“When I had nothing left to try, I wrote to you. I wrote to you almost every single day…” Silence descends upon them, leaving that statement lingering in the air. Marlena looks at him helplessly, wanting him to assuage her fears.
He recognizes it in an instant – even if she can’t admit it herself. The pain he caused her all those years ago when he put Hope’s needs before her over and over again, when he slept with Hope while under Stefano’s control and refused to acknowledge just how much it crushed Marlena and hurt their marriage despite it not being what he wanted – it’s still there. The fear he sees shining in her tear filled eyes as they search his for the truth takes his breath away and the magnitude of the rouse he has created and the damage he may have caused Marlena hits him hard. He looks at her with all the sincerity and love in the world as he covers her tiny fists with his large paws and promises her he wouldn’t hurt her like that ever again. “Doc, this isn’t like the last time. I swear to you. My heart is filled with so much love for you – only you. I have never wanted to be with Hope. Not in the past, not now, not ever.” Marlena draws in a deep breath and the tears fall freely. He knows her so well.
After wiping her tears, John chooses that moment to get up to retrieve something from the bottom drawer of his chest of drawers. Marlena watches him intently. He brings a wooden box back to bed, placing it wordlessly in front of her.
“These are for you, sweetheart,” he motions towards the box. “If you’ll let me explain, it will all make sense,” he says gently.
With no little hesitation, Marlena pries open the lid of the box. Inside, she recognizes the folded pages, the handwriting scribbled across them. She remembers the endless tears she cried. They were her letters to him. All of them. She runs her fingers over them lightly. If she were to take inventory, she would find not a single one of them is missing. Some are torn in half but carefully taped back together.
“I’ve read them, Doc. Every single one them. Sometimes two or three times when I was especially lonely for you,” he smiles at her as tears stream down her face.
“Then why…”
Before she can finish her question, he reaches behind him, pulling a wad of envelopes tied up with ribbon from the top drawer of his bedside table. Handing it to her he explains, “this is just a sample of what I wrote back to you. When you have time, you can read them all. I replied to every single one. Not a day went by where I wasn’t thinking of you or wanting you. Not a moment where I wasn’t wondering what you were doing… what you were wearing,” he adds cheekily, trying to lift her out of her funk. Marlena takes the bundle of letters, continuing to look at him confused, unable to avoid the sincerity in his deep blue eyes. “Honey, you were right. We were right. Hope isn’t herself. She hasn’t been for quite some time.”
“What does Hope have to do with this? With us?” Marlena asks, not knowing what any of this means.
“She was hiding your letters to me, Doc and taking the letters I wrote to you before the postman got to them.”
“Why would she do such a thing?” Marlena asks astonished.
“Because… because she is not Hope. She is Princess Gina Von Amburg and she thinks she is in love with me…”
Marlena. Propped up against a stack of pillows. Legs spread wide. One elbow pointing up to the ceiling as she grips the top of the headboard behind her, knuckles white – her other hand raking through her golden hair in ecstasy. Eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. Mouth agape with a series of continuous unintelligible moans, not so muted cries and choked whimpers escaping her lips over and over as his tongue hits the spot. Bringing one hand down between her legs, she threads her long thin fingers through the bobbing head of thick grey hair belonging to her husband, taking a fistful of it and arching her body up into his hungry mouth. “Oh god!”
John. Hovering above the woman he loves, giving her pleasure – stroking and nipping at the place that glistens only for him. He’s an expert cunniliguist given the right instrument. The buzzing of his lips against his wife’s vulva, his embouchure, would make even the most experienced of flutists blush. He knows just how she likes it; how to extract the right sounds from her and coax her juices. Each arm is curled securely under and around a thigh holding her undulating pelvis down – restricting her movements – purposefully frustrating her. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of her thighs, they part her swollen lips, they expose her delicate bundle of nerves. They keep her open for him. Face buried in her. Sucking, biting, diving, licking, driving – driven to make her sing. She hasn’t stopped vocalizing her pleasure since he first made contact. The sounds she emits spur him on, compelling him to work harder at pleasuring her. Her taste coats his mouth. His nose and chin are wet with her juices. Her scent is musky and thick in the air around him. She guides him with her hand, tugging sometimes painfully at his hair when she is overcome with sensation – threatening to pull it out – an indication that she‘s on the precipice, wanting it harder, rougher – deeper – wanting him to take her over the edge.
Tongue flicking and probing. Teeth clasping. Jaw aching. He’s been going down on her for at least an hour and counting. She’s spent, delirious and ultra sensitive. He knows this from his intimate awareness of her – from a lilt in her sigh or whimper, when she struggles against him as he fondles her or she takes longer to climax. She’s had 7 intense orgasms already and cum long and hard in his mouth each time. Each time, he has swallowed as her body shuddered with release. Each time, her climax has been uncontrolled, unmuted; shrill. Each time, she has taken longer to recover, closing her shaky legs against him in protest. Please, John, no more. He pries them open again at the knees. Yes, more.
Hope. Awake. Long forgotten by her hosts. Marlena’s had 7 seemingly endless orgasms if you don’t count the mind blowing climax Curious George witnessed for herself earlier as John sodomized his wife. But who’s counting? Marlena’s repeated cries of ecstasy echo down the hallway, rolling into one and piercing her skull. She has not shut up; some cries are much louder than others. John has been working her for what feels like hours. It is almost 3am. There was a period of time there where they had gone quiet, but it didn’t last long. Their stamina is ridiculous. She doesn’t even want to know the cause of the uninhibited and relentless sounds Marlena is making now. She can only imagine what John is doing to her as she calls out to god. Rolling her eyes, she reaches over to the bedside table where her gold plated cigarette tin rests next to an opera length cigarette holder. Placing a cigarette in the holder, she lights it up and takes a long drag filling her lungs. Releasing the smoke expertly into the air, she wonders how long they will last. How long will this torture last? Someone put an end to my misery. Her eyebrow arches as a thought crosses her deluded, desperate mind… The way John is intent on pleasuring his wife, he must be having to make up for something. Maybe, just maybe my hard work hasn’t been for naught! Perhaps I have indeed gotten under John Black’s skin and he is trying to convince Marlena and himself that he has feelings for no one else but her.
—
Enter reality. This is John’s ultimate apology – his face nestled deeply where the smell of his wife’s sex is strongest, worshiping at the altar, extracting her very lifeblood, drinking from the chalice, making her toes curl and her voice hoarse for days. “Yes!” I want to be fucked by you. “Yes!” I believe you. “Yes!” I trust you. “Yes!” I forgive you.
He has come clean with everything. She cried in his arms for the precious time they have lost, for the pain he has caused her. For the endless nights she spent worrying about him. About them. He cursed himself as he rocked her. Surely he could have gone about it another way? But it is what he thought was best at the time. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. When the anger and tears subsided, when she let him touch her again, they agreed to devise a plan together to fight Stefano and Gina at their own game, even if it means letting them think they have won. Marlena is still angry to be sure. But ultimately, she understands John’s only motivation was, *is* keeping her safe. She cannot punish him for loving her nor herself by not forgiving him. She’s had to live without him one too many times in her lifetime and if fate has it so she is forced to do that again, it will not be by choice. He has had to compromise too. In the morning, Hope must pack her things and leave. He hates it because he wants to keep an eye on her at all times, but it is the only way Marlena will move forward with any of this. Us against the world, he promised, looking into her hazel eyes as he parted her legs at the knees, relieved when she didn’t resist.
“Honey?” she whimpers, breathlessly. John stops what he is doing and looks up at her from between her trembling thighs. The corners of his mouth glisten with her arousal; his blue eyes are cloudy with his. He’s intoxicated by her; drunk on her scent and nectar. “Mmmmm?” Continuing to circle her clitoris with his thumb, he considers the wanton image before him. She looks thoroughly sexed. Cheeks flushed. Lips swollen from his kisses. Hair a wild tumble. Eyes glossy with desire. Or is it frustration? “I can’t do this anymore,” she exhales on the verge of tears. Her leg is cramping, her clitoris overstimulated; she’s extremely worked up and ready to have him inside. She’s anxious for release.
Placing a soft kiss on her mound, he crawls up to her on all fours, her legs askew, bent at the knees, just how he likes them, feet firmly planted on either side of him. If he had his way, he’d spend his life buried between these legs. They’re face to face, nose to nose, mouth to mouth. “One last orgasm,” he promises. She feels his rigid member bounce against her belly as he hovers over her. He’s wet too. “What about you, baby?” she purrs, reaching down between them, wrapping her hand around his shaft. Pumping him slowly. Pressing near his tip. Never taking her eyes off his. He jerks against her body. Voiceless. Ears ringing. He knows he needs to pull away. With eyes wide open, staring deeply into hers, he places soft open mouthed kisses on her lips. She can taste herself. “Baby,” he groans wrapping his hand around hers, guiding her – taking control. She does wild things to him. “Ughn,” he grunts as he moves within her hand and takes her mouth in his more fully, plunging in and deepening their kiss. “If you don’t stop that right now…” he moans, his tongue colliding with hers – a battle of the wills. They kiss until the kissing becomes torture and the body grows restless. Simultaneously reaching up to bring her free hand down from the headboard and disentangling his shaft from her firm grip, he traps both of her hands above her head on the pillow, encircling her tiny wrists with the fingers of one of his large paws. “You don’t play fair,” she exhales hotly, twisting and straining against him as his free hand slowly snakes down her taut abdomen, firmly cupping the V between her legs. He groans as he presses his hand into her gelatinous arousal making a squishing sound, impatient now to bury himself in it. “Open your eyes and look at me,” he commands. She does as she is told, lids heavy. Amber turning green from arousal. Taking her bottom lip between his teeth, he flattens his palm on her clitoris, making circular motions with his wrist. “Did you touch yourself in Europe?” he whispers against her bussed lips. He often wondered what she would do to get her release. His quiet, possessive tone excites her. His eyes have grown dark. Looking at him as if he is the only man in the world, she nods her head yes. “I can’t hear you, baby.” “Yes!” she cries out abruptly when he slips a long, thick finger deep inside her sex, liking her answer. He finds her sticky and throbbing. “Were your thoughts only of me?” he asks hotly, brushing her lips with his as he increases the pressure on her clitoris. “And the Queen of England,” she mutters distractedly, clenching her teeth and squirming beneath him as he contorts his wrist to curl a finger up deep inside her. Her wit and sense of humor is one of the many things he loves about her. He laughs, kissing and licking her lips while digging hard for the part of her that makes her cry out. “I don’t like sharing you,” he tells her seriously. Her head comes off the pillow, straining against her extended arms, wanting more of his mouth, “John?” she exhales. “Did it feel this good?” his voice is hoarse against her lips as he pushes another finger in forcibly, his biceps and forearm tensing with the effort. Marlena’s cry sticks in her throat, coming out strangled. Her pelvis arches into his hand, her ass coming off the bed, “oh, ri… right there, honey,” voice husky with arousal. It’s a tight fit for both of them. They’ve been apart for too long. His growing erection stiffens at the thought of the exquisite pressure he’ll feel when he finally enters her. “Sweetheart?” he whispers hotly against her neck as he sucks her skin, leaving a deep purple mark there. He wants an answer. “Tell me,” he pushes his fingers in deeper. “Tell you what?” she exhales. “Did it?” Biting her lower lip and straining against his fingers, unable to concentrate on anything or anywhere else but where he joins them, she manages to give him a definite, “no”. That’s all he needs to know. Removing his wet hand from her, he grasps her hip, digging his fingers into her flesh to steady her undulating pelvis and with no warning at all, whether she is ready or not, he slides into her to the hilt in one long, hard thrust. He grunts against her, his forehead resting on hers. Both their eyelids snap shut simultaneously. The pitiful mewling sound Marlena makes dies somewhere in her throat, her face wrenched in pain. John is paralysed from her tightness, his mouth open against hers, panting, “I love the way it feels when I’m inside you.” Marlena’s breaths are sharp, her body rendered motionless. She can’t find the words to tell him how he makes her feel. The wind has been knocked from her. He throbs hot inside her, splintering her. He’s a rod of pure, unforgiving steel cushioned by his balls that are nestled tightly against her ass cheeks. She is not sure she can take what she knows will be a pummelling from him. They lay like this for minutes until they both shudder against each other and sigh shakily into each other’s mouth. Lips slackened against each other. Feeling her relax around him, he starts kissing her again – slowly, languidly while hiking one leg high up over his waist to give him better access, her heel digging into his ass. He’s grateful for her agility in times like these. His being able to bring her knees to her ears has made for some very deep and satisfying sex for them both over the years.
Letting go of Marlena’s wrists, he flattens his clammy palms against hers, threading their fingers. Clasping tightly. She knows he’s ready when he braces himself this way and digs his pelvis into her, “ughn, so tight.” He’s hot and heavy against her. Marlena panics a little. He can see it in her amber eyes, in the swift rise and fall of her chest. The first few thrusts are always the most difficult to get through when she is not ready for him. Recognizing her fear, John decides to create a little diversion as he bends his head down filling his mouth with her breast, licking and sucking the pliable mound, dragging her nipple with his teeth. He moves his head across to the other breast, sucking harder, rolling his tongue against her dark pebbled nipple and tugging at it. As he anticipated, Marlena is so turned on by the foreplay that she lubricates around him and starts to whimper, softly at first, then piteously, rocking her hips against him of her own accord, beckoning him to move with her. He smiles against the soft pillow of her chest and joins her, tightening his grip around her fingers, palms sweaty, hips rocking with hers, slowly, slowly. Building. Rhythmically.
“John!” her cry is muffled against his shoulder, “oh!” her teeth digging into him. She loves it when he gives it to her good and slow.
“Oh, Doc, ughnnn, hurts so good, baby,” his ass clenches and rolls with her hips in a fluid, steady motion as her muscles contract like a boa constrictor around him, milking the beginnings of his release, “I wanna pull out and push back in,” he chokes out breathlessly into her neck. He’s ready. She has suctioned him so deep inside her, the pressure is just too much. If he doesn’t move right now, he will blow his load. He feels Marlena wrap her other leg around him, signalling her readiness, digging both heels into his rear. “Fuck me,” she pants. “I want you closer.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls out and rams back into her grunting, “ughhnnnn!”. The first thrust is measured, yet purposeful, hard, yet restrained. A test run to see how they both like it. A sheen of sweat breaks out across his forehead as he breathes through his open mouth. Marlena’s head snaps to the side, her face contorted in a mixture of pleasure and pain. The muscles in John’s lean back flex powerfully as he hovers over her, low enough to feel her erect nipples rubbing against his chest as he moves atop her. Digging both of his elbows into the mattress, he puts his arms under Marlena’s shoulders so that they are chest to chest, his hands cradling her head, forcing her to face him. He smashes his mouth to hers in a carnal kiss, drawing blood between them. Slowly but surely, with his mouth securely fastened to hers, swallowing her mellifluous cries, he begins thrusting in earnest. In and out, in and out, like a well oiled piston, pounding at an angle so deep it makes her wild. He’s hard. Full. Exhilarating. He nails her with each thrust. He is the only one occupying her consciousness right now. Her nails dig into his back, leaving welts, letting him know what he’s inflicting on her – in her. Her legs move up and down, back and forth in sync with his thrusting pelvis. Her cry comes out sharp and shrill when their mouths part for air. Marlena brings her knees higher up his sides, effectively tilting her pelvis and deepening his penetration of her. This ain’t her first time at the rodeo. “Fuck, Marlena!” he yells at the top of his lungs, recognizing her masterful move. “Give it to me deeper, baby,” her voice is panicked, urgent. He is about to cum from her instruction alone. The vein in his forehead is bulging and ready to pop as as he feels the shift, falling deeper and deeper into her tight canal, digging shorter, faster, harder, the upper part of his unforgiving shaft hitting her nerve bundle over and over forcing her higher and higher up the mountain until… “Oh, Oh, Oh! God! I’m… ughhn! John, honey, I’m coming!” Marlena blurts out, gushing around him, stiffening, as she clutches his sweaty back and bites his shoulder. Her skin tingles and her toes curl from the orgasm wracking her entire body. Wave after wave. John feels it. She shudders against him. Her vaginal walls contract and pulsate powerfully around his cock as he continues to thrust up into her uninhibited. Her cries come from the deepest part of her – the sheer force of his thrusts where his tip hits her wall again and again and pins her to the bed. “Oh, Doc, Doc, uhhn, Marlena,” he repeats her name over and over as he fucks his way into oblivion, “oh, god, John!” the sweaty tops of his thighs slapping the underside of hers loudly, thrusts short and swift, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he finally ejaculates in her – head thrown back facing the heavens, his cry of release primal and intended for the Gods to hear, as he vigorously squirts himself into her with every powerful contraction of his muscle.
He falls atop her unceremoniously, completely spent and breathless. Mouth open, seeking out her rising and falling bosom, he cups her breast with one hand bringing her nipple to his mouth and spilling his tongue over it. He’s gentle and deliberate, focusing on steadying his racing heart. He had worked up such a speed that as he lays there now like jello between her open legs, his pelvis continues to thrust and roll into her involuntarily, spasmodically eking out the last of his seed, until his movements become imperceptible to the naked eye; a jerk and twitch here and there that only Marlena can feel deep inside her. She strokes her fingers through his damp hair, her gentle touch causing his eyelids to flutter. She’s every bit the ultimate picture of femininity as she lays beneath her husband who cradles and feasts on her breasts like their children before him. Marlena slowly brings her legs down from around him, her thigh muscles now burning and shaking. John’s mouth eventually slackens against her as he falls asleep inside her, in her arms. “Welcome home, my love,” she whispers.
The Jarlena Journal 