Michael cast a speculative gaze at Peter, wondering why he'd ever agreed to this craziness of them both dating Leslie. And at the same time, he was now questioning why Leslie wanted to see them both intimately. It had him mystified-she hardly seemed like that kind of woman. But hey, it was the '60s, free love, and all that. And Peter turned him on too, so who was he to judge her? Lighten up, Nesmith.
But somehow, he just couldn't. What he'd wished for was that the relationship between himself and Leslie be uncorrupted, unsullied by what went on around them in these uncertain times. He'd thought Peter was relatively pure. As pure as a young man out in the world, in a band, living with three other young men could be. But now he wasn't so sure. Nothing seemed to have clear boundaries anymore.
Peter looked as if he felt dreadful. He wasn't happy without openness, and Michael understood that. But what the hell were they going to discuss, the three of them together? Hadn't it already been said? He and Peter were the ones who really needed to talk- without her presence. Bringing Leslie into it was only going to tangle everyone's thoughts into tight knots. Too many variables, and besides, Michael didn't see any point in confiding to Leslie about what he and Peter were now facing. It was separate. Or was it? He had, after all, told her about the neck kissing incident. He'd screwed himself there.
"What the hell are we going to talk about?" Michael resented Peter for horning in on their post lovemaking closeness. It was their first opportunity since he'd gotten home, Goddamn it! Peter should respect that, since he'd had Leslie to himself for the first half of this week. Couldn't he give Mike even one night alone with Leslie now that he was home? Last night Mike had been too tired to even make love with her. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. Peter was acting as if he had a right to come to the door and disturb them, when in fact, he was playing second fiddle.
Peter saw the warning signs in Michael's eyes. The glare, the sparks that preceded a roaring fire.
"I just wanted us all to… talk about… our situation," Peter's voice had lost most of it's volume, his manner was becoming submissive.
"If you need to talk to me, Peter, you talk to me alone! Don't get Leslie involved in this! Shit, I'm splitting!" and Michael rushed out the door and into the night.
Leslie and Peter stood and stared at each other, stunned. Michael had been going back and forth so much lately that they hardly knew what to expect anymore.
"Bummer. Oh… Leslie. I'm so sorry. I never dreamed he'd react like that." Peter hung his head. "I'll go find him," Peter started for the door.
"No, Peter. Stay here. I think he was way out of line, and I'm more than a bit pissed off. He was fine with me seeing you both, and now… he's throwing a tantrum, or whatever it is he's doing."
"Leslie, he cares too much for you. I think he feels threatened."
"But he said he wants to talk to you alone."
"Yeah, about myself and him. I came over to talk about the three of us."
"I don't get that," said Leslie, and suddenly her expression reminded Peter of Davy. Davy would say those same words when he didn't understand an American term or expression. "Why would you come over to talk about the three of us when it was already… understood, I thought… that I'd be dating you both? What more is there to discuss?"
"Damn it, I don't want to talk about Michael and me when he's not here. But it looks like I don't have any other options… What there is between Michael and myself could affect what we have with you. I'm not sure of that, but it seems there could be overlap. We have to get it out in the open!"
Leslie mulled this over for a moment. "Overlap… so… what you're saying is… you and Michael have something… more than what I already know?"
Of course she'd be confused, thought Peter. She thought they'd only hugged up until now. She didn't know about today's kisses, the pent up sexual energy between himself and Michael. She didn't know the half of it.
"Hell, Michael and I are…kind of both freaked out right now. Earlier today, well, it went past hugging. I hate telling you without him here, but otherwise you won't understand why he's in such a snit. He's thrown for a loop because he's got to deal with us both dating you, and what is happening between myself and him, all at the same time. Put yourself in his shoes for a minute and I think you'll understand what I'm saying a little better."
Leslie sunk down to the couch, trying to absorb all this information that was being thrown at her. So Michael and Peter were involved. She'd known they'd turned each other on when hugging once or twice, but she'd had no idea it had gone further. And how much further had it gone? The question nagged and prickled at her until she had to know.
"I know it's not my business by any stretch of the imagination, but … how far did it go?"
Still standing, Peter bent over and folded his arms on the back of the couch, then rested his forehead on his forearms. He looked like he would crumple at any moment. When he raised his head, he looked at Leslie directly, and intensely. "We kissed, Leslie. And not just some chaste little kiss either. We kissed for a long time, on the bed. We… rubbed against each other too."
Leslie was more than alarmed. She was terrified. This wasn't just male hormones at work! She'd been wrong. This was heavy… much heavier than she anything she had expected.
"Does it gross you out?" asked Peter. The quizzical look on his face was attractive, even through all the confusion and pain.
Thoughtful and pensive, Leslie didn't answer immediately. When she finally spoke, she made sure that every word she said was the truth.
"No… I don't believe it grosses me out at all. I'm just shocked, I guess… because at first it was just the neck licking story…. And that seemed harmless enough. But then… it was the fact that the neck licking was… stimulating, then the hugging, neck kissing, and now this… well, it's a lot to take in."
"What I want to ask you," she continued, "is if maybe you and Michael want to try out this… thing… between you alone. If so, I would understand, and stay out of your way."
Peter smiled for the first time tonight, and she felt like kissing his dimple. He could be so terribly irresistible. "No, Leslie. Even if Michael wanted that-and I know he doesn't, I myself wouldn't want it. I can't say how much I want Michael… because I don't really know yet… but I know without a doubt I want you… if you'll still have me." Gentle tingles ran through her heart at the tender inflection in his voice.
"Well, one thing is for sure. We need to sort this all out. I can't continue seeing the two of you."
Peter gasped, and she couldn't help but find it very endearing. "Why?"
"Why?" Leslie glared at him impatiently. "Isn't that rather obvious? Michael just stormed out of here."
"He's in denial about himself and me, he's mad as hell at himself for giving in to his… urges. He cares deeply about you, Leslie. He just needs time alone to come to terms with it all."
"How long do you think that will take?"
"Well… I don't know. Maybe a week, maybe a month."
"That long?"
"Yeah, think about it. Michael's a man, and every man is a little different. He has a lot more… male ego than I do, I guess. It's probably killing him, being with you, and feeling attracted to me too. It's got him frustrated and mad at himself. From statements he's made in the past… he doesn't think men should 'be together.'"
"He's insecure…." Leslie was thinking out loud.
Peter nodded. "He doesn't feel very manly right now, and he's handling it like he does other things I've seen him struggle with… in the past. If he gets a serious blow to his ego, he goes off by himself, figures it out, then comes back after he's done a hell of a lot of thinking. Usually he's okay after that."
"You guys really do know each other well."
"Remember, we share a house, a profession and our lives."
"Well, while he's gone doing his thinking, what do we do?"
Peter looked down at the floor. "That's up to you," he said softly.
Peter wanted to hold her close, but he knew now was far from the optimum time.
"How about if I come over and see you tomorrow?" Peter said. "I think we'll agree I shouldn't stay here much longer tonight."
Leslie nodded. "And I promised Mrs. Marston and Veronica they could come to a gig this weekend—what'll we do about that?"
"Oh yeah… that's right. You might want to explain to Mrs. Marston, in case Michael is really quiet like I think he'll be. But we can still pick them up on the way to the club."
"Explain to her? What can I say?" Leslie's eyes were wide. "She knows I'm seeing you both, but she doesn't know about… you and Michael. Or the fact that… I'm sleeping… with you both," she blushed bright pink.
"Then tell her he's ambivalent about you seeing us both. Sound good?"
"I guess. I can't think of anything else I can say, and hopefully it'll get her off my back," she admitted, laughing. She loved Mrs. Marston, but the woman could sniff things out like a bloodhound.
Peter came over the next morning at eleven. Leslie had not seen nor heard a word from Michael, just as Peter had predicted. Peter sat her down and his eyes never left hers. He looked somber yet sanguine, if that were possible. She'd learned over time though, that just about anything was possible with Peter. He appeared so intense, so sincere, and yet still so hopeful for the future, that she wondered what he had in mind. He took both her hands in his. His hands were warm, large, exceedingly comforting. They completely enclosed her hands.
"Michael came home last night, late," he said.
He watched Leslie physically slump in relief to know Michael was alright. She sighed and let down a bit.
"Thank God. What did he act like, what did he say?"
"Typical Michael form when he's dubious about something," was her answer. "He didn't actually address me, just murmured a general greeting of some kind under his breath and went to bed."
"Look," now Peter's eyes were especially serious, "if you want to call things off between you and me… well, you know how I feel about that. So the decision is yours. I only want you to be happy."
"I kept waking up all night, thinking about Michael, and where he was, what he was doing. It was a very long night," she said.
"Yeah, me too. He was at the Pad, but I felt we were so disconnected. But do believe me that Michael will be back when he's ready. He's going through a storm of emotions right now. Thunder, lightning, driving rain—the whole nine yards. He has to come to terms with it, and what he wants. That's kind of what it boils down to."
"Peter, I thought about you all night too. Am I being selfish? To want to still be with you, even though Michael is so disturbed about it?"
"I don't believe so, but then, I'm personally involved. I have a horse in this race after all. So, in all fairness, I'm not really the one to ask. I do know that he'd want you to do what you felt you needed."
"Would he get violent with you if he were to catch us… together?"
"No. It's already happened, remember? I have to warn you though…" Peter's brows knitted together, "There's always the chance he might disappear from your life. You have to be aware of that. I don't think he would, but there's a theoretical capability…of it happening."
"Do you still want to see me?"
"Leslie, I tossed and turned probably as much as you did, and after hours of thinking…. I know I can't stay away from you… if you want me. Unless you give me a definite no, I can't stay away from you," he said with emphasis. The sincerity in his voice tore at her.
Leslie's heart felt shredded. Peter seemed pretty certain Michael would be back, but would anything be solved? She didn't want Michael to think she didn't care about him or his angst. She didn't want him to be devastated at knowing she'd been with Peter while he'd been gone, getting himself together.
Peter left soon afterward, and Leslie decided not to go to the Friday night gig. Instead she felt she needed some quiet introspection at home. Michael not might want her to go, and she'd feel very out of place. Saturday night Mrs. Marston and Veronica would be going, and at least she'd have them to talk to if things got overly uncomfortable.
The Monkeemobile arrived Saturday at 7pm at her end of the parking lot so they'd have plenty of time to pick up Mrs. Marston and Veronica and get set up. Michael revved the engine, but didn't come to her door. Peter had called earlier to let her know what time they'd be leaving.
Leslie had never seen Mrs. Marston so aglow. She'd donned her best dress, a little out of date, but she still managed to look great. She looked ten years younger after she'd teased her hair just a bit, curled it, put on make-up and some lovebeads Leslie had made and given to her. Along with high heels, she looked ready for a fun evening out.
Veronica wore a dress too, and she'd experimented with make up and her hair, and Leslie had to admit she looked like a different woman. She looked more like her real age—32, other than years younger every other time Leslie had seen her. She had a regal maturity about her tonight, and although she seemed more on the intellectual and emotional level of a fourteen year old, Leslie really had to hand it to her for how self-possessed she was. She'd had to keep an eye on her tonight, in case a guy tried to take advantage of her. She didn't expect any trouble, as this club was usually completely trouble free, but you just never knew when you were in an establishment where people were drinking alcohol.
Michael was driving, as usual, and had taken her breath away when she'd seen him for the first time since he'd stormed out of her house. So handsome, so composed. He had been very polite to Leslie and her friends, but he also had the personality of cardboard. He held the door open for them, the gentleman that he was, but he never touched Leslie, and she distinctly felt it's absence. Peter was talking with Davy and Micky, but wasn't quite as jovial as he usually was on the way to a gig.
Leslie had taken Peter's advice and told Mrs. Marston on the phone earlier about Michael having trouble processing her seeing both himself and Peter. Mrs. Marston had that sly look on her face when she'd slipped into the car, and Leslie was pretty sure that Mrs. Marston knew more than she let on.
Mrs. Marston was thrilled when they began to play. Her face fairly lit up, and Leslie enjoyed watching her have so much fun. Veronica was happily clapping, her smile rivaling her mother's. Leslie had been afraid the music might be too loud, but when she suggested they sit toward the back of the room, Mrs. Marston vehemently disagreed.
"We want to watch the boys up close," she said, clapping her hands and squealing, along with Veronica.
Peter smiled down at them, sitting in a booth closest to the stage. His sunny face was positively dreamy.
"Oh, that dimple! It's a killer!" Mrs. Marston gushed.
After a few songs, where Mrs. Marston and Veronica swayed so much to the music that Leslie began to do the same, Mrs. Marston commented that Michael wasn't very animated.
"He's always that way," Leslie explained, glad that at least she didn't have to lie about that. "He mostly just stands and sings."
"And doesn't smile," finished Veronica. She was apparently almost as observant as her mother.
"That little Davy is a scamp," remarked Mrs. Marston in a whisper when the boys had gone on break.
"I know, in more ways than one, but in what way do you mean?" asked Leslie.
"He's flirting terribly with you!" was Mrs. Marston's answer.
"Oh, Mrs. Marston, Davy flirts with everyone. Watch him and you'll see what I mean."
"Yes, I've seen how he flirts with others, but he's really turning it on with you."
"Oh, I think it's just his way. It's the only way he knows to act around girls. Because it works so well," Leslie smiled to herself. She understood Davy. He was a lot of things. He was dutiful, delightful, exasperating, annoying and could even compete with Peter in the sweetness category. He had it all, in one small bundle. But being charming was what he excelled at. She'd learned to smile back and even wink back at him. It was a little game they played.
Micky was a little harder to get to know. Leslie sometimes wondered if Micky didn't hide behind his clown act when he felt low. He was always putting on a show. He and Davy were born for the stage. Leslie firmly believed that. They were natural entertainers. She felt that Peter and Michael were a little more humble and didn't seem to hunger quite so much for an audience. However, Peter's sexy moves and Davy's dancing with his tambourine, along with Micky's antics made the Monkees' music even more special of a band than it already was.
And there stood Michael… he didn't look Leslie's way the entire evening. He might not be much of a smiler, but he'd always given her meaningful looks at their gigs. Grief stabbed at her heart like jagged pieces of glass. He almost felt like a stranger. She longed for him as he watched his nimble fingers on the strings of his guitar, the way he cocked his hip between sets when standing around talking to the guys, his masculine aura. How she missed his touch. But Peter had said he'd make himself available when he was ready, so she had to accept that, and be happy she could at least see him onstage on the weekends, instead of not at all.
The night was almost over when Veronica said, "I'm still going to marry someone just like Michael someday." This was a bit surprising, as she hadn't said that since she'd first met Michael months ago. Leslie would have thought Veronica would fall hard for Davy, as most females did, but perhaps Veronica was attracted to Michael's quiet, reassuring ways.
Oh the way home, Mrs. Marston talked enough for all six of the rest of them. She had the place of honor riding shotgun in the front seat with Michael, and she turned around, giving everyone else a rundown of all her favorite events and songs of the evening. She remarked about loving Michael's slight yodel, the way Davy handled his tambourine with such expertise, and held so many maracas at once, how Micky kept the audience entranced with his funny faces and expressions, and… oh my… the way Peter moved with his bass guitar… Mrs. Marston's face went red when she mentioned that.
So… I guess I'm not the only one that finds those moves sexier than hell, thought Leslie.
When the Monkeemobile let Mrs. Marston and Veronica off at the shelter, Leslie got out briefly too, after Mrs. Marston had given her a subtle signal. She sent Veronica indoors while she talked to Leslie quickly, pretending to be casual so the guys wouldn't get suspicious. Leslie noted the windows were up, so the boys couldn't hear them.
"Please be careful with those boys' hearts, Leslie," Mrs. Marston said earnestly. "I won't embarrass you by saying it right out, but I think I know what is going on. I don't blame you for wanting them both, as they're both just precious… but right now, I sense Michael's hurting …"
"I know, Mrs. Marston, I'm aware of it, and next time I come visit you, next week, I'll tell you the whole story. And not just because you want to know… but because I feel comfortable talking to you about it."
Mrs. Marston nodded, then laughed out loud. Leslie was startled. "Just to throw the boys off, dear," she said as she nearly danced back into the shelter, still high on the fun she'd had tonight, even though she hadn't had a single drop of alcohol. Leslie smiled affectionately after her and got back into the Monkeemobile.
When they let Leslie off, everyone bid her goodbye like they always did, with Michael's goodbye being very subdued, no kiss, of course, and she knew Micky and Davy were wondering why he didn't walk her to the door like he always had before.
Leslie was trying not to admit to herself that she was wondering if Michael would come over tonight, or maybe even Peter. As it turned out, neither one did. Leslie understood why. If Michael were home, he would notice Peter leaving, and no doubt would deduce his destination. And Michael wasn't ready yet to come to her. So she went to bed alone…
The next day was Sunday and there were quite a few people on the beach. The weather was very slow to cool oftentimes in Southern California, as if it couldn't bring itself to let summer go, and would draw it out, not wanting to yield to fall. You could just about be convinced the weather wouldn't heat up again, and then it would, for a few days or a week, and then go right back to being in the sixties during the day and down into the high 40s at night. So when it warmed up, people came out of the woodwork, hoping to catch what might be the last warm weekend of the season. Halloween would be here soon. Leslie found herself wondering if the guys dressed up for the gig that was closest to Halloween night. Glancing at the calendar, she saw it fell on a Friday this year, so it would be perfect. She couldn't, however, imagine Michael dressing up. Maybe in something sophisticated, but never something silly. She could see Peter and Micky dressing silly, and Davy would be careful to dress in whatever way he felt would enchant the girls the most.
These idle thoughts took up her entire day as she walked the beach with Breezy, played Frisbee with her, did some laundry and cleaned the house from top to bottom. She'd already done errands, so there wasn't much to occupy her time. She didn't see any of the band on the beach, so she supposed they were catching up on the practices they'd missed when Michael had been gone. They would have some serious catching up to do. Presenting new songs was quite a challenge, as they didn't want to keep doing the same songs over and over. Peter had explained to her how difficult it was to not only write songs, but to set the lyrics to them, decide who would sing them, and a lot of other more technical things she didn't understand.
She sat at the table and ate dinner at seven, noticing she still had a bottle of white wine in the fridge that she'd forgotten about. She indulged herself with a glass while she looked out at the ocean, feet curled up underneath her. Thoughts of Michael and Peter blended together in her mind. Each held such a special place in her heart. No more analyzing this now though, she needed to relax, reflect on her life in a peaceful way, not fret over what may or may not happen.
After her second glass of wine and listening to some music, it was 9:30, and the wine was flowing warmly through her veins, affecting her in a romantic way. More than that, she needed touching, hugging, holding. But only two men on earth would fit the bill, and neither of them were here, so she went into the bedroom and tried to read. When she found herself not able to concentrate, and reading the same sentence over and over, she gave up at ten, turned out the light and tried to curb her racing thoughts enough to sleep.
Not ten minutes later she heard her front door open softly, then slight shuffling sounds followed. She almost panicked, then saw Breezy's tail waving from the foot of her bed. Breezy got off her cushion and poked her nose out Leslie's bedroom door. Leslie knew it was one of only two people, her heart froze, and she swore it stopped beating until a body slipped through the door. Just by the graceful movements and hesitant manner, she knew it was Peter. Her night light was off tonight—she'd forgotten to change the burned out bulb, so all she could see was a shadow. Michael would have moved in a more deliberate manner. While Peter could be clumsy, he was unexpectedly fluid when he wasn't tripping over things.
"Leslie… don't be afraid. It's me." Peter kneeled at the side of her bed. "I couldn't stay away," he said it as if it were the biggest sin he'd ever committed.
"I knew it was you from the way you move. Peter, don't feel bad. I've been missing you tonight. I just turned out the light—what timing you have."
"I was watching the house, so I cheated. I feel I've gone aground without you," he went on, his words sending a shudder through her body. His voice sounded like half melted butter—velvety smooth. Had he been taking lessons from Davy? The thought made her giggle.
"What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing, really. I'm just thinking silly things."
"But I was being serious," he sounded almost crushed, and she took his face between her hands, appreciating the stubble there, realizing he hadn't shaved, and wondering if he'd skipped it just for her. His hands, in turn, eagerly cupped the sides of her neck, and his lips searched for hers in the dark. He missed, and got her on the cheek, then worked his way over until their lips met.
"Ummm… you've been drinking wine," he said, sounding a bit devilish.
"Only a couple of glasses. Trying to stop thinking about you and Michael."
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I saw him earlier, out on the beach."
"How long ago?"
"About an hour. He wasn't anywhere near your house. Almost directly in front of the Pad, in fact. I made sure he wasn't coming here before I made my move to come over. I locked the door behind me too."
"What was he doing?"
"Picking his nose. No… not really."
Leslie couldn't help but laugh. Peter was such a character. "Come on, Peter. What was he doing?"
"Jacking off."
The room went dead silent. Leslie could hardly believe her ears. After roughly thirty seconds of silence, Peter burst into giggles that quickly turned into raucous laughter. "Sorry," he gasped. "I just couldn't resist."
Leslie tried not to laugh—she really did. But it was just too funny. She gave in to it helplessly. Through it all, she noticed how sexy his laugh was. How uninhibited, how lighthearted.
"Peter! You're terrible! What a thing to say!" but then she continued to laugh for a couple of minutes before finally regaining control.
"I was just kidding," said Peter.
"I was hoping you were," and Leslie started giggling yet again.
They weren't laughing at Michael, or trying to make fun of him. It was silently understood between them that they were just trying to ease the tension, and Leslie found herself feeling happy that Peter was comfortable enough with her now to make a joke like that.
"Michael has hardly said a word to me since that night—how long ago now? Three days? Seems a lot longer," he said. "I miss him. The way he was."
"Yes, me too. How do you guys not talk to each other without causing Micky and Davy to be curious?"
"Oh, David knows. You saw that already. Thing is, I think he's figured the whole thing out. I can almost see the gears working in his head sometimes. Micky knows something is up, but I don't think he's as intent on figuring it out as Davy. Davy is nosy by nature." Peter smiled in the dark—she could barely see the corners of his lips turning up.
"I knew Davy suspected something, but had no idea he had it all put together. Climb into bed, Peter."
Peter should have applied for a Guinness world record, as quickly as he shed his clothes. He'd felt no straps on her shoulders, and had realized she was naked. That had caused him a raging hard-on that had already been halfway there before he'd even gotten all the way in her front door. How he wished he could control his own body a little better.
Oh… he was so warm…. He smelled so good… his closeness was floating her away on a wave of desire. She didn't care if she drifted all the way out to sea on that wave.
Peter didn't make a move. He knew the predicament Leslie was in must be scraping her heart raw. He knew how much he himself was hurting. He wanted Michael's friendship back, so it must be much more difficult for Leslie, having lost Michael's lovemaking as well.
Leslie wrapped a leg in between Peter's legs and clamped him tight to her, above him, running the silky strands of his hair between her fingers. Exploring his face. She could feel his erection now and then against her hip when she brushed against it. He remained quiet and respectful though, and waited on her, letting her run the show. Somehow, that excited her endlessly.
Her hair floated down like a curtain onto his chest and neck as she kissed him. Forgive us, Michael. He could no more have stayed away from her than he could stop breathing. Leslie practiced on him what he had done to her—starting the kissing out sweet and soft and barely there, and slowly building on it until they were both about to explode with the overwhelming need.
He was always eager and creative in bed, and tonight was no exception. He absolutely loved to go down on her, and when she reached her peak, it never failed to delight him. He began by accepting her deep kisses, enjoying them to the hilt, and then taking over. He'd let her have the buildup, he was only too happy to comply with whatever she wanted. And now, she turned him loose, knowing he wouldn't disappoint. After kissing her breathless, squirming, and running his hands up and down her back, his hands sought her breasts, where he rolled both nipples as he kissed her, and the sensations caused her to get more aggressive.
She caught his erection in her hand and used the lightest of strokes—something that drove him mad. His mouth was on her breasts now, hungry and demanding. The strong suction coursed through her, ending up in a hollow feeling in her stomach, as if needing to be filled. A dull, persistent ache that gnawed at her. How she ached for him.
Peter could hardly check his eagerness long enough to get between her legs, and he dove so quickly that one second he was loving her breasts, and the next, he was using his lips and tongue right where she most needed it. He inserted his tongue as far as it would go, then licked, delighted with her wetness, then concentrated on her clit, using all the tricks he'd learned during their other lovemaking sessions. He was so avid, Leslie feared he wouldn't last until penetration. He sucked and nibbled and flicked at her clit with his tongue. She couldn't hold back, the stimulation was direct, and Peter was goal-oriented. After she'd had two mind blowing climaxes, he inserted his fingers and began to wiggle them, remembering her reaction the last time he'd done it. He curled them and rubbed right where he knew her G spot was, and she nearly came undone. Even after two orgasms, she was dying for more.
Immersing his fingers in, and then back out of her, yet still being gentle, he was murmuring again. He'd done it before, but she hadn't been able to make out the words. She was more than a little curious, and when he crawled back up her body, she asked him in a hushed voice what he had been saying.
He hesitated. Although extremely aroused, he was showing his shy side again. He almost acted as if he were afraid of telling her. He stalled, kissing her neck and shoulders to distract her as if he were afraid that if he told her, she'd clobber him or something.
"Peter…."
"Okay, they were tender, yet… naughty words," he explained. Now he really had her inquisitive.
"Come on, Peter… I want to hear it," her voice had taken on a sexy tone, so steamy, so inviting that he decided to chance it. He gathered up all his courage, took a deep, cleansing breath, and went for it.
"I was asking you… if you, my lovely lady… wanted me to… fuck you." He said the last two words in a whisper, directly into her ear as if he were in danger of being overheard. Leslie actually physically jerked. What? He'd really done it this time—shocked her into a staggered state. What really astounded her though, was her reaction to it-it aroused her. Incredibly. And instantly.
To hear this sweet, shy, adorable, innocent looking guy say what he'd just said made her uterus contract intensely, and if it were possible, she was even more wet than she had been before.
"Oh Peter…" she couldn't seem to unclog her throat enough to say any more, so she began to kiss his neck passionately to let him know she really liked it. Peter sighed with relief. He felt sure she was going to throw him out immediately for using that kind of language. But he could clearly see now that it affected her the same way it affected him. He smiled. Being straightforward with her had paid off. He was gaining confidence steadily. Her kissing on his neck turned to hungry sucking, and when they kissed again, she sucked his tongue. Oh boy… he knew what that was leading up to. The message behind it spoke volumes. He was so unbelievably aroused, that if it were possible, it seemed even his tongue was begging for an orgasm.
Leslie was wild with desire as she lowered herself to his thick, heavy cock. The head was wet with his pre-come. She could feel it with her fingers. Her tongue snaked out to lick it clean. A long, yearning moan came from Peter. She teased him a little more, random short licks all over his erection, long slow strokes thrown in. It was hard as steel, and she felt pride in knowing she'd made it that way. Peter was practically whining, his hips rocking upward, there being no way he could stop it, this natural desire for her. When he felt her moist mouth cover him, he thrashed about, then forced himself to be still so he could enjoy her ministrations.
The head of his cock was the most sensitive part. She knew that through past experimentation. He loved her to lick and suck it. She concentrated on it, sucking very lightly, and using her tongue, darting it against his hot flesh. Then sucking harder, shivers and grunts coming from him now. Peter felt as if he were being catapulted to the moon. He was forced to stop her soon afterward, as he wanted more than anything to be inside her.
He spread her legs as far apart as possible, then, with a little help from Leslie, inserted himself. He still wasn't very precise when it came to that, but he was learning more all the time. He sunk deep within her. She was so wet that they didn't have to ease him in this time. Her body was also growing accustomed to his size. She felt thoroughly stretched each time he entered her, and it was the most erotic feeling…filled up completely.
"Did you like that?" he whispered into her ear again. "What I said to you?"
"Yes… yes, Peter. It was such a shock, but it turned me on…"
He growled low in his throat. "Hold on… this might be a bit of a rough ride," he said. He was so stimulated by her words, the words he'd spoken, and the feel of being ensheathed within her that he was flirting with losing control. He didn't want to hurt her, but he wanted her to feel him plunging into her with energy. Like the last time he'd given it to her harder, only more aggressive this time. Wanted to see how she'd react. He grasped her hair at the nape, gently pulling it. It was a possessive move. He began moving faster… then faster, then with more force, deeper, until she was crying out for him, clasping him tightly. Their flesh slapped together, her wetness making enticing sounds. He knew he was on the right track, that the feeling was mutual. He sucked her nipples as he made love to her, affording her even more pleasure, his hand still tangled in her hair, holding her steady against his thrusts.
He began a series of grunts and groans, they mingled with her cries, thrusting harder, feeling her spread her legs to open all the more for him, and it tipped him over the edge. With a mighty roar, he came inside her, wave after wave of orgasm ripping through him, relishing the aftershocks for several minutes, basking in the feel of completion almost too satisfying to be real. He rocked gently, sporadically until he was completely spent.
It took a while for them to come down. They both recovered their breath, and he slipped out of her, still half-hard from the incredible stimulation.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" his voice sounded shaky and worried.
"No… felt so good…" she could think of no words to describe how he'd made her feel. So she just left it at that.
"Someday soon…" he said. "Someday soon, I'd like you to… ask me for what you want. I want to hear you say the words…"
Leslie felt a sharp jab of desire. Her intake of breath was sudden, and Peter heard the gasp. Suddenly, she thought of something Michael had said to her once—asking if she would like it if Peter watched them make love…