A/N Thanks to all they eyes, Michelle, Jennifer and Doris. This has been an interesting journey. I missed last week's deadline though I tried desperately to make it. I can honestly say that if I hadn't committed to this once a week posting I wouldn't have been where I am right now. I just plugged away and got through the tough part. Also some of my formatting and some of the corrections didn't make it the first time. I have attempted to fix that. My saved documents and ffnet are constantly at war. Please let me know if you see any errors.
Sara pulled the gray backpack along the wet sidewalk muttering to herself. She vowed that she wouldn't glare at Mr. Hardy, the perv from across the street, who magically appeared every time she pulled into the driveway. No matter how much he deserved it, she figured the more attention she gave him the more he got off on it.
The garage door opener was still broken, and the only way it would open was if Gil performed some magic to make it actually lift long enough for Sara to pull the Lexus into its appointed space.
Today was the last straw, she was calling someone, whether he liked it or not. She didn't know who you called in these situations, but there was a phone book and the next day was Saturday. She knew that he would grumble and grouse and say, "I think I'm smart enough to fix a garage door opener."
The thing was, he hadn't fixed it, and now she was walking in a cool, damp, drizzle. It didn't help her mood that the walk was doing further assault to her hair, which had already risen in the heat of the daytime.
As she lifted the damp-bottomed bag up the porch steps, she gave a cheerful wave to Lola Martinez, a former school teacher l who now dealt called bingo three times a week at the Salvation Army.. She and her husband had raised three boys. She kept telling Sara to "give Gil some babies
"Hello darlin," she said a little too loudly, perhaps trying to compensate for the rain. "You give Gil a tongue wagging for me. This rain and you working and going to school The least he could do is get that door fixed." Her husband joined her on the rainy porch, pressing a cup of tea into her hand and wiping off a wicker chair before she sat down.
Sara turned, slipped her key into the lock, and gave a tired grin. "Will do."
The promise of food did not great her at the door and she found herself unreasonably pissed off. The least he could have done... Aw screw it. If Gil had been away from hearth and home for over 14 hours he'd expect a meal, a stiff drink and a blow job. And when he didn't get it, he'd have that one eyebrow thing going that she'd become so adept at ignoring.
Men.
The front hall was cool, but welcoming and she hoped they weren't going to have to have to work through some issues about the heat or putting a quilt on the bed because the cold was starting to descend on the desert.
The living room was dark. The kitchen was tidy, and barren. She tried not to be mad. She trudged barefoot into the bedroom considering how she would let him know that he'd been thoughtless, knowing that she'd probably chicken out.What was the point really?
What greeted her in the bedroom first pissed her off, then freaked her out. Finally, it turned her on.
There he was, naked, thick shaft in hand, hard as a rock. Was this what it had come to? He was just assuming the position now. Quickly she realized that he wasn't even aware she was in the room. The hardness bumping against his stomach was not for her enticement.
Gil Grissom was jacking off.
The faint smell of strawberries hung in the air and an unnatural sheen covered his hand and his cock. He was moving the hand, not slow or fast, but at a medium rhythm which suggested that he was neither beginning, nor ending.
His mouth was slack and he was murmuring something. With lightening speed, her neurons began to fire. Did he do this often? Who the hell was he thinking about? Was he dissatisfied with their sex life?
As the last question died a quick death, her own arousal began to tingle, stimulated by the fruity musk and the sight of his actions.
With catlike stealth, she crossed the room and lifted his hand from his shaft, quickly replacing it with her mouth. She had been right; the lube was strawberry. How dare he go sex shopping without her.
"Wha-..." his sky colored orbs opened wide, just as Sara's head began to bob slowly between his legs.
Feeling terribly naughty, Sara descended on him with vigor, laughing lightly as he fell back into the pillows.
"Sara," he groaned softly, the sound bouncing off the paneled walls. "You..." he struggled and then gave up. Her warm cheek came into contact with the standing hairs of his thigh
With delicious nervousness fluttering through her stomach, she took one long pull on his shaft, savoring the saline taste of skin and sex.
Before Grissom, there weren't many blowjobs. Just a few with the ex-boyfriend and those had been furtive, desperate moments stolen in the shelter where they both lived. All she ever really did was open her mouth and close it around Manny and bam it was done. No expertise was required.
The first time she'd gone down on Gil she'd been afraid she'd mess it up, and he'd dump her for someone with more experience, especially after finding her so tight the first time they'd had sex.
Quietly he'd whispered, "We don't have to do this."
"I want to." She'd meant it. She did. She wanted to make love with him with her whole body.
"Just do what comes natural." She had and he'd seemed pleased. She'd come to savor this part of their lovemaking, loving when his control slipped as she made him cry out with the nip of her teeth, or the swirl of her tongue.
He'd confided to her once that she gave the "best blowjobs I've ever had." She'd thought him a glib ladies man, but not now. Not now that she'd come to know him, to know his body, his mind, the things that pleased him, that drove him to the edge of madness.
He liked control as well: loved the idea of being served. Loved when she gave him that knowing and salacious wink, slipped out of her top and bra or maybe all of clothes and knelt before him. He'd run his hands through her hair, massage her scalp with his thick fingers, saying her name over and over again. Cupping her breast with the other hand, he'd alternate between slow taunting nipple circles and full on squeezes.
He'd once suggested trying sixty nine. While she wasn't opposed to the idea, she kind of liked things the way they were: having him under her spell, watching that first jump of anticipation and then the sleep-like lull as his eyes rolled away and up into his lust filled head.
She got off on Gil getting off. She got off on making him get off.
Increasing her pace, her mouth started a low, almost imperceptible hum. He swore and shuddered. "Yeeesssss."
Wickedly, she stopped. She counted exactly two seconds. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.
"Please-," he pleaded.
She resumed her licking and tasting, stopping a minute later to take off her top at his urging. "You have on too many clothes," he protested. Her response was to slip her damp sweatshirt over her head, followed quickly by the t-shirt and bra.
A nipple grazed his mouth as she hovered over him taking in his ruddy, passion filled face "You started without me," she teased, pulling the pink tip away from his lips. With feline grace, she slid down his sweat soaked skin and started in on him again. Gilcould hear the blood rushing in his ears and feel static breaths leaving his mouth. What this girl-woman did to him. She surprised him constantly. First with her wit and intellect, now she did it with her intuitive and completely compatible sexuality.
His devoured shaft disappeared again into her waiting mouth, the tip of his weeping cock hitting the back of her throat, creating final rivers of pleasure coarsing through him.The heat of her, the eroticism for the moment, all conspired to send him directly over the edge.
Semen spilled from him into Sara's eager mouth. "Yeeeeezzzz..." he buzzed collapsing against the sweat soaked sheets.
Observation Sara
I take a peak at Gil. He's not asleep. I can always tell. There's no steady breathing, no almost open mouth. His eyes are just closed, and his breathing has slowed, but he's still awake. My stomach gurgles.
"Hint taken," he says. "You must have your postcoital repast. I already called Opas."
"When?" I'm confused, because I know he hasn't moved from this spot.
"Earlier... Should be here in about fifteen minutes."
We're quiet for a time, until I have to ask. I couldn't help it, I just want know. ''How often do you do that, babe?"
Observation Gil
Well damn, I thought I was going to get away with this one. Of course she has questions. What woman wouldn't? She just walked in on me "interfering" with myself. Men do this. Women know they do it. In my experience, they don't want to know much else about it, and understandably so.
But Sara didn't walk out of the room and pretend it didn't happen like Alana had once. She didn't get angry or jealous, she just dealt with it in what, now that I think about it, was a very unselfish and giving manner.
"Now and again," I say, staring at the ceiling.
"Quantify Dr. Grissom," she demands.
I shrug in what I hope is a lighthearted fashion. "Well...I don't know-I guess maybe twice a week..."
I can feel her rest her head back on her own pillow. She' still very close to me, curls brushing against my shoulder. Sara may be the tallest woman I've ever been with. She's certainly got the longest limbs. Those legs. They are something no matter what they are doing, walking wrapped around me, reaching towards the leather ottoman.
That's what started it. I was cleaning up a bit before Sara got home. Straightening really. Sara and I are both neat, but hopeless packrats. A week's worth of magazines and journals covered every table in the living room and there were several on the couch. Sara's copy of "Getting the Love you Want." was on the ottoman. She's been reading lots of self help books lately, but I don't ask any questions. I know this is a process and Sara's on the first step. She was embarrassed about the books at first, but I made sure that she saw me reading one.
Anyway there I was putting up the books and papers and I got this image of Sara's feet pressed into the cognac colored material of the ottoman, then of her calves hovering over the floor, and finally those lovely thighs. A minute later I was shucking all of my clothes and stroking myself. I intended to be alluringly recovered by the time Sara came home. I'd be able to go for the long haul, only she'd finished what was supposed to be a mammoth test in barely 30 minutes.
The point is that I don't jack off a lot, because Sara keeps me pretty occupied. And when I do get off, it's mostly to images of Sara. It feels odd to be spurred on by images of Sara, when I don't have access to Sara.
"So uh, is there anything else I should know?" She wonders aloud.
I take a peak, but only see the top of her head. Between the sex and the rain it looks like she's got sort of an afro thing going.
"Like…" I prompt.
She hitches herself up, so that our faces are close again. "I don't know. Like, that could affect our sex life, or improve our sex life, or you know, anything you feel like sharing... Is there something you want to do? Together I mean."
My brain is going blank. I've got nothing. I mean, sure there's stuff I want to do, but none of it is coming to mind right now, because well…I can't really believe Sara asked the question. Why I don't know? It's very Sara to want to know everything. It's just that no one ever wanted to know my fantasies before.
"I...well, I don't know." I sputter. For god's sake, I sound like Greg.
Earth colored eyes burrow into mine and the top of my ears are getting hot and most probably red… Sara makes them do that when she's seeing right through me like now.
"I know what I said way back, you know when we got together, about stuff I wouldn't do and everything, but you know things are-…" She licks swollen lips. "They're different now… And if you want to-you know-try some different things, I'm willing to give it a shot. I mean, I know you wouldn't ever hurt me, physically, unless, you know, we got into some kinky stuff that calls for a little of that..." She's rambling. I make her do that.
I lift tendrils of hair away from her damp, flushed cheek. "Just because I was jacking off, it doesn't mean that I'm not satisfied with us. In fact, I'm very satisfied."
Her breath comes out in a light-hearted exasperation as she swats at my arm.. "I know that. It's just the men at the club, they're there 'cause…well, 'cause they're bored, right? Or I mean, they have wives, so there's gotta be a reason... And we don't do anything very...exciting. I mean, I thought we'd be doing more stuff." I start to speak, but she cuts me off shaking her head. "Not that I am complaining at all, but it's just, you know, I see these guys that come in night after night..."
"I can't say why they're there- the married ones. I can't answer that. I started coming there every night because of you, but my initial motivation is because I like hot, naked women. It's base. It's not very pc, but there it is. The married men, the committed men in there every night? Somethings wrong. I'm not saying it's their wife's fault," I assure her. "It might not be anybody's fault, maybe they're just with the wrong person. You don't go to see other women shimmy around with no clothes on night after night if somethings not wrong. Maybe it's internal or maybe it's they dynamic at home. Maybe you are stressed out at work but home is where you should be getting what you need whatever it is. If it's more sex or more romance or more talking you need to work that out at home not with someone else. I mean guys come there all the time just to talk to Marge or Marisol. When you always confide in someone else, or constantly fantasize about someone else you are heading down a slippery slope."
I give her a quick kiss. "I have everything I want at home."
"Me too." she grins shyly and plants a longer sweeter kiss on my lips. No tongue; just our lips meeting. When she breaks off, I see what I hope is the beginnings of love. Since the revelation about her parents there's been more of this. More moments where she lets me know how important I am; where she shows this incredible amount of trust. Honestly, it hasn't been that long since everything happened with her parents. She's been through so much, but yet she trusts me. I don't deserve it, but I've sworn to myself and God that I'll make myself worth it.
She interrupts my thoughts. "You know, I don't want you to get to that point where you need stimulation elsewhere."
"Sweetie. I just starred in my very own porn movie. You, me… All I needed was a pizza delivery uniform."
"I know where to get one of those."
"I bet." The doorbell is buzzing now and a bit of relief runs through me, even though I'm glad we've had this conversation. "Tell you what. I'll think about it and you think about it, too. We'll both make a list of things we might want to try-together, and we'll go from there. Fair?"
"Yep." Her stomach growls again. Laughing, I grab my pants and head for the door.