Show Me by Carole Hart Page A

he began to unbutton her blouse and kiss the tops of her breasts. She immediately accepted it as a tribute of affection, and her skin was warm and alive where he kissed her. Even the feeling of her nipples hardening as his fingers ran over her breasts was a deep yielding to him, an opening into sex with a significance she had never fully suspected. She had known the words for it but not what they meant.
    He leaned forward, bearing her gently onto her back, and then his wonderful body was weighing her down as his hands moved up and down her body, hungrily getting to know her. He pulled one breast free from her bra and bent to kiss it and then to suck on her nipple with a sweet eagerness. She moaned and was aware at the same time that she was crying again, even as he pulled up her skirt and she felt him pressing against her. Ridiculously, the fact that she could feel his hard-on against her made her swell almost unbearably with love.
    Then she had thought the word “love.”
    As he pulled down her panties and opened his belt, his eyes locked onto hers again. He said, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
    She couldn’t speak. She wanted him so much she couldn’t find the words. At last she managed a whispered “Yes . . . yes.”
    A second later he was pushing inside her, holding her in his arms as his cock opened her with an aching note of delight that made her clutch his shoulders and cry out. She surrendered herself to the helpless pleasure of being fucked; her breasts flattened to his chest, his cock stroking her inside and seeming to open new reserves, sources of pleasure she hadn’t suspected. Each stroke inside her drove her to a new plane of pleasure, until she was coming while he was still fucking her. She felt his desire and need mingled with her own release—and desired him more.
    The orgasm sweetened into a dimmer pleasure and then began to gather again, and she opened her eyes just in time to see his face change as he was gripped by his own orgasm. She came again as he did, the experience made almost unbearably intense by the electricity of his eyes on her face. He was moaning her name, and her sympathy with him was so powerful that she felt his pleasure almost more directly than her own, her sense of fucking and being fucked intertwined into a wild loving abandon that left her weak. He began to kiss her cheeks, her forehead, her neck, and she only then felt the tears that she had continued to cry throughout the whole experience. She thought, stunned, This is the happiest moment of my life.
    They held each other in silence for a long time afterward, his cock beginning to ease from her. As the minutes passed, a terrible doubt grew in her mind. She began to want to hold him with her eyes shut forever. Anything rather than to find out that she’d been mistaken, that he didn’t really care about her. Or worse—that she didn’t really care about him. She remembered something Babylona had once said: “But, honey, I have been in love! I’ve been in love thousands of times!” What if she was just going through a transformation into a Babylona-style porn actress, one who felt a meaningless transient love for every man she wanted to fuck?
    But when she opened her eyes and saw him, that idea vanished. His eyes were still closed, and his beautiful face had a meditative joy on it. She noticed small details she had missed before—faint lines around his eyes, the sharp outline of his cheekbones, the thick blond eyebrows that looked golden against his lightly tanned skin. Even a tiny scar on his chin struck her as a new perfection, and the word “love” came back into her mind.
    But as she watched, his expression changed, expressing first worry, and then, as he opened his eyes, sadness.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was unforgivable.”
    She swallowed and chose her words carefully. “How could that be unforgivable when it was the best thing that’s happened to me in years?”
    “To me, too,” he