Page 66 of Race With The Devil

I stood. “Well, if that’s my task for tonight, I’d best get in shape for it.” I held out my hand to accept the pasties, because I’d seen Unity and Bee heading our way. They both held five-gallon black plastic pots containing what looked like roses. Bee was a master gardener running a nursery, and she’d provided plants for our new ranch at cost. True to her word, Unity was getting highly into it, designing a sitting and picnic area for humans, and of course planning all the vegetation around our future home.

“Darlin’,” Unity drawled. She’d been calling me that too lately. I’d never noticed it was a habit of mine.

I took the pot from her and put it on the ground. “I’ve got to make my bones tonight. So, I thought we could take a break right now, you know. Get powered up for my task tonight.”

Unity, as my official Old Lady, knew better than to ask, “what task?” But she was definitely into getting powered up. “The trailer?” she suggested.

“I was thinking the same thing,” I said. “Keep an eye on Paddington?” I asked the group. There was nothing like being stuck in a trailer with a Newfoundland who kept jumping on you while you were trying to fuck.

We had to pass through a cloud of delicious shrimp smoke on our way to the trailer. Unity said, “Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.”

I remembered another time she’d made a Buddhist quote. She never ceased to amaze me. This time I asked, “Where do you get these Buddhist quotes?”

“Oh, you know. There are lots of Buddhists hanging around the cannaworld.” She hadn’t done much modeling lately, being stuck there at the ranch, but she had gained a new sponsor, a maker of glass pipes who had donated money in return for our displaying some banners of theirs on fences. In one way, I didn’t want her to miss out on her independent avant garde lifestyle. In another way, I was jealous and suspicious of the men who were allowed to ogle her. We’d cross that bridge at the next HempCon.

“Are you going to show me the Queen of Heaven position?”

My heart lurched. Did this mean she’d finally let me penetrate her? As far as I could recall, I’d committed a little white lie when I’d told her that position meant impaling her dogstyle while rolling her clit between my fingers. Only, so far we’d only done the frigging part. Not the impaling. As I said, I was going very slowly with her. She was a responsive little minx now, and I rarely had to use much caution.

“Sure, if you think you want to.”

She gave me a dimpled smile over her shoulder as she climbed the metal steps to the trailer. “I want to.”

The bedroom was big enough for just a bed, and a laptop that we used as a TV sat on a built-in shelf. Quickly, almost nervously like a schoolkid, I queued up a screensaver I’d made for her consisting almost entirely of shirtless photos of myself. I’d been studying how stock animals thought to be infertile could get primed with sexy sights, boar odors or images of playboy bulls. As damaged as Unity believed she was from Gregario’s assaults, I secretly held out hope she could become pregnant. I’d be an older father, sure. An older father, an older doctor. I’d gotten a late start in life.

“Oo,” she marveled. “The horny screensaver. We can practice the Queen of Heaven while I look at these photos.”

I turned her to face the wall of shelves backed by mirrors. With one knee on the mattress, I could angle my hard cock into the cleft of her ass, corkscrewing my hips. It probably gave me more pleasure than her, but then I knew she got off on looking at herself, too. It wasn’t a vain or ego-riddled characteristic of hers. It was more like she saw her boobs through my eyes and posed and moved so as to enhance them.

Which she did now. When I grabbed handfuls of each muscle shirt strap and yanked down, her tits easily popped out of her fabric bra. Pinioning the shirt under her boobs like a shelf, I weighed her breasts, bobbing each one in turn. Her breathing accelerated as she twined her fingers together at the back of my neck, behind her.

All at once, she made a leap for the wall of shelves. Like a petulant kid, she knocked all sorts of crap off the shelves—books from my TBR pile, stuffed animals that reminded her of better days, even my lone high school baseball trophy my mother had actually saved for me all those years.

“I want to see,” she panted, returning to her former position. Undulating like a prairie, she heartily returned the gyration of her butt against my groin. Was this it? Was she ready for actual penetration? I’d have to go slow, but I’d come in about thirty seconds anyway from the months of build-up, and—

She fell to her knees. Frantically she unbuckled my belt and scrabbled her fingers at my jeans buttons. “I want to blow you,” she asserted.

Great. I’d last more like ten seconds.

Unity

Tanner was pumped. I mean his prick was just like a taut hose ready to burst. And I was ready to take a load of jizz down my gullet.

I knew it turned him on to watch my boobs in the mirror. I used to be too petrified to help him, but now I wiggled like a pole dancer while humping my butt against his hard-on. Over time, trust had been built up between us. I no longer went into capture myopathy mode when about to approach orgasm, that was for fucking sure. I was awake and clear with every cell of my being when this commanding man licked me into a frenzy. Coming into his mouth was similar to the initial euphoria of heroin—minus the crash later on. Now I knew from Tanner that powerful chemicals were released in the brain leading up to the moment of climax. Some were actually heroin-related opioids. For me it went on for three minutes or more. Tanner usually stopped me within thirty seconds, claiming it was too much for him. Either way, I knew as I hoovered his rod that he was feeling the exact same things I felt with his face between my legs.

Only this time, he grunted and protested more. With a fistful of my hair, he kept backing me off. He sat on top of one leg on the mattress, the other long stallion’s leg stretched out to touch the wall. Now he can watch himself. That idea sent goosebumps scattering over my ass. Just knowing he was getting off on his pumped deltoids, curvaceous biceps, strong collarbone, pointed nipples—I could easily see in my mind’s eye what he was seeing, and it made me so wet I humped my own bare foot on the floor.

My mouth actually watered as I sucked him. Of course, it was impossible to stuff the whole length down my throat, but I hoped my tongue action more than made up for it. I guessed it was, by the way he was yanking his handful of my hair back and grunting like a bear. His juicy penis was filling with blood, I knew from his doctorly lectures. Pressure was soaring inside the fleshy piece of meat. His dick felt so stiff against my palate I knew it was equal to a boa constrictor suffocating its prey.

He was at the point of no return.

That was precisely when he gave one last giant yank and pulled me off his dick with a loud pop. I looked up at him wide-eyed. He panted like a winded man, staring ferociously down at me.

“Queen of Heaven.”

I didn’t know if he was referring to me by my pet name, or suggesting that we enact that Kama Sutra position, but either one was fine with me. I jumped to my feet and stripped off my short jean skirt and panties.

He was on me like hot, dripping sugar, turning me to face the bank of mirrors. “Oo, I like this,” I purred, turning my head this way and that trying to get the best angle.