Love's Long Night

The moonlight streaming into her room gave her skin an alabaster glow, Adam thought, "She glows like the Venus de Milo." He had seen it in Europe and at the time, had remarked to his friend that a woman without arms was really no use; she couldn't cook or milk a cow-or a man. His friend had remarked that as long as her other parts were intact, she was perfect to him! The other tourists had turned to look at them as they broke out in hearty laughter.

And now he had his own Venus with, what did the poets call it, her "mound of Venus," only his Venus had a sparse covering of curly hair preventing him from seeing the source of all his pleasures. But that didn't stop him from touching, telling her he was checking to see if she was really as ready for him as her "please, please," indicated. He would slide his hand along her thigh, and sometimes view what to him, was a rose with unfolding petals dripping with morning dew-then he knew she was ready.

He had wanted her for so long-so very long-from the moment she and her husband had bought the ranch on the adjoining property. Every time he saw her, his heart would boom in his chest and he would feel that familiar slow crawl up his belly. But she never gave him a look or a smile that indicated she had any special interest in him-and he tried, God knows he tried! Since her elderly husband couldn't dance due to his infirmity, Adam would always go to the socials alone so that he could dance just with her. She of course, would often decline or defer to her husband for his permission, which he always gave. Her husband told her that watching her enjoying herself on the dance floor gave him pleasure, so she would accept Adam's invitation and slip into his arms, glance shyly at him and then make very little eye contact. There was the one time that he held her too closely and she must have felt his hardness because she blushed and pulled away telling him she was tired-she didn't look tired to him; her eyes were shining as with a fever and her cheeks had a flush of pink-which made him wonder about her secret pink. Then one day, she was a widow-and as far as Adam was concerned, it was about time. He had even toyed with the idea of picking her husband off with a rifle as he went about his ranch. Thank God, it hadn't come to murder-but Adam would have murdered, he wanted her that much.

And now she was here, lying here, recovering from their last coupling, and he was here in her bed with the moonlight streaming on her and the flames casting ghosts around the room. He ran his hands along her belly and she giggled-"Don't, that tickles!"

"Oh, does this tickle?" He took one of her nipples between his lips and gave it a nip.

"Ouch! You are so bad. I don't know why I waste my time with you." But when she said this, although her voice was petulant, her hand stroked his cheek and she kissed the cleft in his chin.

"Yes, you do," Adam said. "You like this." He took her hand and guided it to his member. It hadn't been that long since they had just lain together, but he could already feel the urgency in his body. Apparently so could she, because she tightened her grip and ran her hand up the shaft until she nearly reached the end, then held him, smiling tauntingly at him.

"If you don't let go, you won't get what you want," Adam said while running his hands down her sides She began to tighten and then loosen her grip while looking up at him with a play of a smile on her lips.

"Don't be so sure" she said. "Maybe I have everything I want right here in the palm of my hand."

"Oho," he said, "that's not usually where you want it." No woman had ever pleased him as she did-no woman had ever touched his heart the way she did. When she would whisper in his ear, "Oh, my dearest, my darling heart," Adam could feel the tears sting his eyes and his throat close with a suppressed sob; he had never hoped to be loved that way-never thought it would ever happen and it moved him almost as much as the ecstatic pleasure that he could feel when he released part of his body, part of his soul into her.

Oh, he had known women; there was Betsy, his favorite whore at Miss Teresa's, and she tried her best to please him-and he had been pleased-but never from the souls of his feet to the crown of his head. Not until being with this woman he desired more than his existence had he known such rapture. He remembered his "coming of age" talk with Pa where Adam was told that women viewed "knowing" their husbands as their conjugal duty-not to expect his wife to enjoy it; all women desired from coitus was a child. But Pa obviously didn't know about this woman who would wrap her naked legs around his neck in order to ensure his pleasure. There was no mention of this woman who allowed him to turn her over, draw her up on her knees and enter from behind where he could watch what he was doing, where he could see what gave her so much pleasure, entering and withdrawing. Sometimes, no matter where he was, just the thought of her and what their joining looked like caused a rush of emotion that he could barely conceal.

And now she was teasing him so he knew what she wanted and how she wanted it; he took his cues from her. Adam knew that this time she wanted a bit of roughness, a bit of strong thrusting, unlike the first coupling of the evening which was slow and tender, where she placed her smooth cheek against his and murmured his name and those endearments that expressed her love, her desire for him.

It had been that way from the beginning. He had waited a few weeks after the funeral before he called under the guise of a visit of condolence; Pa and Hoss had questioned him as to why he had on a clean shirt and pants but he had just smiled, put on his hat and gun belt and gone out the door.

She greeted him at her front door and invited him in and offered coffee but he declined and just sat on the edge of the couch not quite knowing what to do. She looked at him and he gazed at her face, so like a Madonna, and said, "Great God, you're beautiful!" That was all she needed. She leaned over and kissed him and he felt the soft yielding of her lips under his. And then, minutes later, he felt the yielding of her body, how his weight against her made her cry out and how when he entered her velvety moistness, there was an initial resistance—but final he knew delight like none other.

After that, Adam made his way to her house whenever possible. He knew others suspected; once when he complained of being tired while checking line, Hoss said that it was no wonder-he was in the saddle all day and in the saddle all night. Adam played it off by saying that he should be so lucky.

And now she was his, whenever he desired her-or she desired him; a note delivered by an unwitting ranch hand and Adam would be there.

"Are you going to let go?" He questioned.

"No," she laughed. "See if you can get away."

"All right, you little wench!" Adam swung over his hand and gave her a quick slap on the buttock. She was startled and let go of him-then they laughed and she nuzzled her face next to his ear, then kissed his cheek and then, under the guise of giving a kiss, nipped at his lower lip.

"Oh, so that's the way you want it, huh?" He gave her that smile, the smile that meant he was up to no good. "You want it, huh?"

He pulled her over so that she was on top, kissing her deeply, tasting the sweetness of her mouth, and then watched, practically holding his breath in anticipation, while she guided him into her. He closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation of her riding him as she did her horse, her pelvis gently rocking. Then, because he couldn't bear anymore, he flipped her on her back, staying snugly inside her and thrust until he felt her gasp and cry and then the deep shudder came over him-and he collapsed, spent, into her arms. Her small, slender arms went around him and he knew that he never wanted anyone else, knew he could never love anyone else and realized that had he died at that moment, he would have felt his life complete.

~Finis~