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Okay, he croaked.
Bud s cock was hitting the back of her pussy. She was creamy but so tight he
was afraid of hurting her. Talking gave him a shaky hold on control. Here goes,
he thought.
Once-up-on In and out and in.
-a mid- night-drea-ry, Four thrusts, tunneling in time with the meter.
While-I-pon-dered-weak-and-wea-ry. The rhythm of the words gave him a
handle on things, kept his movements regular and smooth.
O-ver-ma-ny-a-quaint-and-cu-ri-ous-vo-lume-of-for-got-ten-lore. Oh yeah, it
was going better, a stroke a word.
Claire s eyelids lifted and her smile grew. He gazed straight into her eyes,
the words pulled out from a twenty-year-old lobe in his brain. Hips keeping time
with the meter of the poem, gaze locked with hers, he went straight through
Poe s The Raven . He was thrusting a little faster by the time he got to dark-ness
there and no-thing more.
Bud shifted his hands, pulling her closer, fitting her more tightly to him and
stopped, deep inside her.
That was a good one, Claire sighed. A fabulous one to she stopped
and bit her lip.
To& ?
To& ahm& you know.
To fuck to? Bud asked, voice harsh.
Mm-hmm.
Say it. He prodded with his cock, grinding, lifting her a little with the force
of it.
Say& it?
Yeah.
He held himself still inside her, watching her eyes. She was close to coming,
he could feel it. Shaking thighs, strained breathing. Pupils so large there was only
a narrow deep blue nimbus around them. Her arms were wound around his
neck, face so close to
his their noses touched, so close he could see every detail of arousal on her face.
She was flushed down to her breasts, breathing quickly in soft little inhalations
of need.
Say it. Go on. Lightning won t come down from the sky to strike you dead.
Say it was a good poem to fuck to.
Claire opened her mouth then closed it. I I& can t.
Sure you can. It s English, as Anglo-Saxon as it comes. He pulled back and
pushed in, hard, one fast strong stroke and she jolted. She was trembling all over.
He nudged upwards with his cock. Most women had a little spot, right
there& Say it. Say it!
Bud, I can t.
Sure you can. Pressing harder.
Bud had no idea why he was pushing her so hard. Maybe because he needed
to feel that she was as out of her depth as he was. Saying fuck was probably as
far from normal as it got for little Marian the Librarian. Well, good. He was way
outside his comfort zone, himself.
Bud reached down to stroke her clitoris, watching her heartbeat over her left
breast. The tissues were stretched around him, but she was wet. He rubbed and
watched her flush more deeply. Go on.
I, ah
He grabbed her ass more tightly and leaned forward. He was as deep as it
was
possible to go. Say it, he growled.
A& a good poem, Claire gasped, to fu to fu to fuck to. Oh, God!
The words pushed her right over the edge. Her legs tightened around his
hips, she arched against him and he could feel her coming, her strongest orgasm
yet, wet little cunt pulsing sharply around him. She was shaking, arms and legs
gripping him in time with the contractions. Her arms tightened around his neck,
one hand clasping the back of his head. Her face was pressed to his, cheek to
cheek and she was gasping right into his ear. Jesus, he could feel the gusts. Bud
had to grit his teeth not to come, holding himself stiff and still inside her while
she went wild.
She calmed finally, still holding him tightly around the neck. She rested her
flushed cheek on his shoulder and he kissed her ear. I know other ones, he
murmured and felt her shiver.
Other ones? Oh& other poems. Claire closed her eyes and smiled. I don t
know if I can survive any more poetry.
Sure you can. Bud licked her ear and she shivered again. He felt a last
contraction coming from her cunt and smiled. Oh, yeah. He slid his hands under
her ass and held her still as he started thrusting again, gently at first. It was easier
now that she d come. She was deliciously soft and creamy, tissues parting easily
for him. So they should. It was his cunt. Made for him. Just for him.
Listen to this one, Bud growled in her ear, starting to move in time to the
cadence. The-out-look was-n t bril-liant-for-the-Mud-ville-nine-that-day,-the score-
stood-four-to-two-with-but-one-in-ning-more-to-play.
Claire jolted, breath exhaling over his shoulder. Casey at the Bat ? You re
going to& fuck me to Casey at the Bat ? Her stomach muscles contracted
against him as she threw back her head and laughed in delight.
Hush. Bud held her tighter. He was on the edge himself maybe next time
he d have more control, though he was beginning to doubt he d ever have it with
her. Reciting kept his mind just enough off-center to keep a grip on himself. Next
time he d have to recite Hiawatha . All 500 lines.
Listen. He had a good little rhythm going now, sliding in her deep and
slick. By God the poem was working.
There-was-ease-in-Ca-sey s-man-ner-as-he-stepped-in-to-his-place; there-was-
pride-in-Ca-sey s bear-ing-and-a-smile-on-Ca-sey s-face
He pumped in her to the rhythm of Mudville s finest, pinning their hopes on
Casey. By the time the umpire called strike two , Bud was panting and shaking.
Only reciting the words from memory kept him on this side of the razor s edge,
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