The Midnight Tour

her arms until it fell to the floor behind her.

Terry let go and stepped back and stared at her.

And she stared at him.

His cloth belt had come loose. The front of his robe hung open a few inches all the way down. He seemed unaware of it, though. He appeared to be transfixed by the view of Sandy. But then he must’ve noticed where her gaze was aimed. He glanced down at himself, made a quiet “Uh” sound, and started to shut the robe.

“Don’t,” Sandy said. “Don’t do that. Take it off.”

He closed his mouth. He wiped his lips with the back of one hand. Then, gazing into her eyes, he took off the robe and dropped it to the floor.

Just below his waist, his tan stopped. It started again partway down his thighs.

“Tum around,” Sandy said.

He raised his eyebrows.

“I want to look at you.”

“I’m just a regular guy,” he said, his voice shaking slightly.

“I haven’t seen that many.”

“Oh? Okay.” He turned around slowly. Though the curtains were shut across the glass wall behind him, plenty of light filtered in. Sandy stared at his profile, then at his back, and then at his other side as he continued to turn.

When he was facing her again, he said, “Want to take your skirt off?”

Smiling, she unfastened the button and zipper at the side of her skirt. The skirt fell, clinging to her legs until it came to rest around her ankles. She stepped out of it. Then she bent over. Standing on one leg at a time, she pulled off her sneakers and tossed them out of the way.

“Now you turn around,” Terry said. “I want to look at you.”

“I’m just a regular gal.”

“Not even close.”

She began to turn around very slowly.

Terry murmured, “God.”

Facing him again, Sandy whispered, “Come here.”

He stepped close to her. When he was a stride away, she motioned for him to halt. He stood there, arms at his sides.

Without looking down, she reached out and curled her fingers around him. He gasped and arched his back.

“You want to put this exactly where?” she whispered.

He sort of smiled.

“Here?” Sandy asked.

She took a step closer to him, pushing down gently at the stiffness with her hand. As her breasts touched his chest, she felt the rub between her legs. She let go and moved in more, feeling him press up against her. Kissing him, she squeezed her thighs together. He felt hot and thick between them.

His hands rushed feverishly up and down her back.

He writhed against her.

Huffing for air, he pulled his mouth away and gasped, “Bedroom?”

“Here.”

“Couch?”

“Here.”

His hands slid all the way down Sandy’s back and under her buttocks. Clutching her there, he pulled upward, spreading her cheeks so she felt cool air between them as he lifted. She went to her tiptoes. A moment later, her feet came off the floor and she opened her legs wide.

As he raised her, she felt her sweaty breasts slide against his sweaty chest, felt her slick belly slide upward against his slick belly, felt the thickness between her thighs follow her upward, pressing at her.

Then she could see over the top of Terry’s head.

She gazed at the bright curtains but didn’t really see them, didn’t really see anything because her world had become the feel of Terry’s penis down there touching her, nudging her open, delving.

She clutched the sweaty hair on the sides of his head.

Gasping and whimpering, she threw her own head back and stared at the ceiling.

Then he eased her downward.

He was all wet and slippery outside Sandy, stout and thick inside. Lowering her slowly, not thrusting himself but only lowering her very slowly as if to torment her by holding back, he pushed in, spreading her, climbing snugly higher and deeper. On her way down, she whimpered and kissed his eyes and his nose. And then he stopped lowering her.

“What?” she gasped.

“You...okay?”

“Huh?”

“Am I...hurting you?”

“No.”

“Should I stop?”

“No!” She cried the word out in such a loud, urgent voice that she shocked even herself.

Terry winched He grunted, “Ah.” Then his hands seemed to drop out from under her buttocks.

She plunged, letting out a yell of shocked delight as she rammed down and felt the full solid length of him shove its way up her. Then her groin bumped his. He was all the way in, all the way home.

“Yes!” Sandy whispered.

She locked her mouth against his.

Arms and legs wrapped around Terry as if she were climbing a tree, she pushed her tongue into his mouth, squirmed and moaned .

Terry, though no bigger than Sandy, held her and stayed in her and sank to a crouch. Then a hand moved to the center of her spine. Holding her, staying in her, he tipped her backward and lowered her onto the rug.

Sandy planted her feet on both sides of him.

He pulled nearly out of her and thrust back in.

Sandy arched her back, crying out.

Terry took his mouth away from hers. He raised his face It was dripping with sweat. “Did I...hurt you that time?” he gasped.

“No! God, no!”

“Are you sure?”

She saw a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

“Bastard,” she said.

He smiled. “Want me to stop?”

“No!” She laughed and sobbed. Then, as she blurted, “Stop fooling around... ”

Terry started to thrust.

“and fuck...”

The noise of exploding plate glass roared through the room.

“...me!”

Jammed in to the hilt, suddenly throbbing and squirting, Terry jerked his head toward the noise.

Sandy, head turning at the same instant, saw the curtain rush forward, bulging away from whatever was left of the glass wall behind it. Through the curtain, she could see a dark shape lurching in from the deck.

Almost the shape of a man.

But not a man.

“No!” she shrieked through the clamor of raining shards.

Terry shoved himself up and popped out of her, shooting semen onto her thigh. As he struggled to stand, Eric