“Used”
by Regina Perry

The sun skimmed the treetops of pines as it sank from the Carolina sky. I walked down the hill to the creek and climbed onto the flatbed rock, jutting over the swimming hole, and bemoaned another night alone. Crossing my arms and clutching my sides, I wallowed in self-pity. Would my life have been easier if I’d never met Jesse Jack? Was the elation of his presence worth the anguish of his absence?

A field biologist for a big chemical company, Jesse Jack created and tested fertilizers across the southeast. He’d promised he could increase my yield by twenty percent when I met him last spring. Walking back to the house, I stripped a cotton boll from its stem. It should be ready for harvest in two, maybe three weeks. It had to be a record yield or the farm wouldn’t survive. The fix-it list grew longer every day: missing shingles on the barn roof, broken steps on the house, peeling paint, leaky plumbing. How much longer could I do it alone? Papa assumed I’d have a husband to share the responsibility, but it never seemed to work out. Did my libido scare the men away?

“I’ll be back tomorrow night,” Jesse Jack promised through the receiver.

“I can’t wait,” I gushed, “I’ll prepare dinner for us. Want to pick up a bottle of wine?”

“Sure, but … Gwen, we’re not going to do it.”

“Why not?”

“You need time to heal. I was too hard on you last night.”

“I can handle three times a night. You gave it to me five times one night last week, and I was fine.”

“You’re wearing me out.” He heaved a sigh. “What are you serving so I know what kind of wine to pick up?”

“Beef. So we’re not going to do anything?”

“We’ll kiss a little and maybe I’ll fondle your breasts, but that’s all. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh, Jesse Jack, I’d love that. I’d love just kissing and hugging all evening.”

“Really? I’m so glad to hear you say that. I was beginning to think you were just using me for sex.”

“How can you say that? Of course I’m not using you. It’s you I want, not the sex.”

“Okay then, I should be there around six.”

“Okay, Baby. I’ll be waiting.”

Last week, I’d been insatiable. I hadn’t seen Jesse Jack for ten days. When I heard his truck roaring up the drive I ran outside. I was so elated to see him I jumped into his arms and wrapped my legs around his waist. His 6’4” frame had no problem supporting me. He whirled me around until I was dizzy, then carried me into the house and fucked me in the middle of the kitchen floor. We were crazed, as if we’d lose the next breath if we didn’t consummate our love that instant. It was always like that when he first returned. I didn’t have to worry about using him up. Jesse Jack is always good for several times a night.

He always insisted on a shower before dinner. While letting the water warm, I turned to finish undressing him. There he stood with nothing on but his socks and glasses, looking like the nerd he claimed to be.

“Come here, Poindexter.”

He winked and grinned, enfolding his arms around my waist while I lifted his glasses from behind his ears. He’d been labeled a genius since showing up for kindergarten, reading at sixth-grade level. He became a novelty for backwoods Georgia, son of a peanut farmer. He took advantage of his intelligence, receiving scholarships and earning a masters degree in agronomy from North Carolina State.  No doubt he could have been a doctor, lawyer or nuclear physicist, but he had to remain true to his first love—farming.

Once the glasses and socks were removed he transformed into the suave stud I knew and loved. His frame was so wide and his physique so toned, hard and lean described him best. I shampooed his curly black hair, top and bottom. He went weak in the knees as I foamed his balls and pulled the suds through and up his crack.

Kneeling, I concentrated on his perfect member. No wonder he worried about hurting me. I asked him once if he’d ever measured it. “It was a full foot when I was eighteen,” he’d humbly replied, as if he thought it had shrunk in the last ten years. My thumb and middle finger, when encircled around it, lacked a good inch from connecting. He always marveled at how I could open up and accommodate him. “God must have created you just for me,” he would boast.

God might have given my vagina expansive abilities but not my mouth. I sucked him as deeply as I could without triggering my gag reflex and made up the difference with my hands while we were still in the shower. Before blowing, he lifted me to his lips. I locked my ankles behind his back, and he lowered me onto his cock. So ripe, I nearly erupted as he filled me and did explode when he began pumping my entire body up and down his shaft, each butt cheek resting in the palms of his hands.

After dinner, we sat in the porch glider, listening to cicadas and watching fireflies. I loved resting against his firm, warm body, his arm snug around me. If only I could be content.

By the time he suggested we turn in for the night, I was craving his dick again. When he crawled into my bed, he smiled and shook his head, watching me squirm on the sheets. Relenting, he mounted me missionary style. Once he’d emptied into me, he crumbled on top of me, rolled to his side, pulling me with him, and fell asleep, his rod left tucked in my sheath.

At two in the morning, I woke from a sizzling dream. I reached behind me and felt his soft, but still long, penis lying next to my ass. I massaged it into rigidity as he moaned and writhed. Once it was standing straight, I straddled him and pleasured myself while he dozed in and out of consciousness.

At first light, we both began to stir. The autumn chill had permeated the bedroom and he pulled me closer. “You’re like a little furnace,” he murmured, snuggling. With a mind of its own, my ass wiggled against him. “Stop.”

“I’m just warming you up, Baby.”

“You mean you’re trying to ignite a fire.”

“It’s not my fault if that’s what happens.” I turned to face him and caught his grin, which only encouraged me more.

Apparently, he had no more control than I did. Within seconds, he was stiff and ready. He bestrode me, and I rested the back of my knees over his arms. I loved the way he held himself high above me, never crushing me. He pounded me for what seemed like an hour. He turned me sideways and hit new spots. He turned me over and delved so deep I cried out in pain. Thrusting, thrusting … he was relentless. My orgasms were coming in euphoric waves, building to crescendos. He rolled me to my back, gripped my ankles and spread-eagled my legs over my head.

“Had enough?” he panted.

“Yes,” I gasped.

“Tell me. Are you satisfied?”

“Yes.”

“I want to hear it. Say it, I … am … satisfied.” His voice intensified, his gyrations quickened.

“I am satisfied.”

“Again!” he shouted.

“Yes … Yes … I am satisfied!” My groin convulsed.

He screamed his gratification and fell to my chest, kissing my face, my eyelids, and then grinding my lips. “Good,” he whispered.

Reflecting on that night last week had me primed as I roasted his dinner. Settle down, Gwen. He already warned you. I looked at the clock. Only two minutes later than the last time I checked. Where is he? I set the oven to warm, rearranged the zinnias on the table, and watched the drive. When I saw the headlights turn in, my pussy did a flip-flop. I reprimanded her.

“Delicious, as always,” Jesse Jack exclaimed, pushing back his plate.

“I know how you love your beef. And you know I prefer my wine more sweet than dry.” I smiled, sipping the Beaujolais he’d brought.

“Sweet wine for my Sweetheart.”

I chuckled at his corniness while rinsing the dishes and loading the dishwasher.

“What can I do?” he offered.

“Nothing. I’m almost finished with the pans. Did you bring music?”

“Yep, my favorite too. Bet you can’t guess.”

“Well, let’s see. For the last month, ‘The Evolution of Robin Thicke’ has been playing in your truck, so I’d say that was a pretty safe bet.”

“That’s my current favorite. This one is my all-time favorite.”

“John Legend?”

“Good guess, but you’re wrong. Van Morrison. I love that guy.”

“Van Morrison?”

His arms extended along the back of the sofa and offered me a welcome. I slid into the triangular space next to his body and wrapped my arm around his waist. He lifted my chin and kissed me lightly. I pushed into him, and his pressure intensified.

“Turn around and face me,” he suggested as Van crooned, “There’ll Be Days Like This.”

I slid my arms behind him as we continued to smooch.

“Let’s try lying down.”

I rose up so he could straighten his legs and then lay against him, my head on his outstretched arm. Softly, he kissed me, then nibbled at my ear. His hand cupped my breast and gently squeezed before sliding inside my bra.

“Let’s go lie down on your bed.”

“Okay,” I smiled.

“Just so we’re more comfortable. Nothing’s going to happen.”

He took my hand and led me to my bedroom. Kicking off his shoes, he crawled onto the bed pulling me after him. Slowly and gently we kissed and tongued one another. Gradually, he began to unbutton my blouse. Freeing my breast, he captured it in his mouth. My groin turned somersaults, and I struggled for control. “Into the Mystic” wafted through the room. I relaxed into the sensation as moisture from his lips trickled across my nipples. I stretched through his arms and projected my tits further into his mouth, then fell back into his embrace. I moaned my contentment from the pleasure he so generously gave.

Lifting his head to face me, his finger outlined my face. “I love it when you’re like this—so calm and relaxed.”

“Do I usually get too excited?” I chuckled.

“Sometimes,” he teased.

“Well, that’s your fault. You just turn me on too much.”

He rolled on top of me and rocked against me, kissing, frenching, engulfing me before rolling to my other side. I maintained my composure, quiet and serene as if I was floating above us, watching our rhythm in time to “Someone Like You.”

He’s the one who grew too excited as he humped against my leg and twittered my nipples. I reacted by lifting my hips, arching upward, as spasms ricocheted from my tits to my pussy.

“I’m so horny. I want you bad,” he gasped.

“Then take me, Baby. I’ll be okay.”

“I can’t.”

I turned on my side, cupping his jaw in my hand. “I’ll get on top, control the force of your penetration.”

He pulled me into his arms as his lips locked onto mine, his tongue nearly reaching my throat. He slid down my shorts and panties, then used his foot to push them down my legs and off my feet. I reached for his belt and he helped me shed his clothes, before freeing my blouse from my arms.

He rolled over to his back, landing in the middle of my king size bed, pulling me with him until I straddled his hips. He lifted me by my waist as I gripped his cock, directing it into my hole. I secured my knees beneath me, placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed downward, a half-inch at a time. My pussy welcomed him with open lips, and I slipped into position.

He groaned his approval, “Ah, you took it like a lady.”

I smiled, amused by his choice of words. I slid forward, like I was nudging a horse into a walk, then maintained an easy gait, back and forth.

“Oh God, where’d you learn to ride like that?”

“I grew up on a horse.”

“You learned well,” he panted, thrusting higher, timed with my stride.

As the intensity rose, he rolled me over and increased the pace, but gently, never inserting to the max. Again, he captured my mouth, and we kissed and rocked to the music.

“This is making love. We usually fuck,” I purred, in between climaxes.

“It’s great both ways!”

Orgasms continued to vibrate through me. I sensed he was near his peak, but I wanted control—to coax him to his pinnacle. I pressed against his shoulders and attempted to roll my hips, projecting him off me.

He responded to my movement and rolled with me until I was again on top. I positioned my feet beside him, pumping my ass up and down his shaft. And with each stroke I breathed, “This is the way … it’s meant to be … you and me … coming together … becoming one … connecting in body … and heart.”

He grabbed my hips and hastened the grinding. At the height of my next orgasm, I heard him scream out his pleasure, shooting his seed, gluing us together.

When I felt him quiver into exaltation and his body go limp, I plunged to him, grasped his lips in mine, and we sealed the ecstasy. Reluctantly, I pulled my mouth from his. “And the two shall become one.”

He responded with a kiss, hugging me tight to his chest.

When we came up for air, I gazed into his eyes. Overcome with passion I whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he professed. “You have my heart and my soul.”

“Oh Jesse Jack, that means so much, and it’s what I’d choose.”  Even though his wife had everything else.