Maya by Shayne Ford

8

MCKENNA

A woman is madeof thousands and thousands of lives.

Tiny organic templates buried in the depths of her body, sleeping inside their eternity shells, waiting to fulfill their destiny.

A woman has a thousand lives.

A baby turns into a girl, and then a wild teenager, a young woman, a mother, and a sage.

She is the beginning and the end of us.

Of all of us.

Without love, she lives no life, she has no story, she meets no fate. Women are here to be loved, protected, cherished.

Understood.

They are daughters, mothers, lovers. They need us, and we need them, but more importantly, they need us to shield them.

Without them, our life would be dull, dry, toxic, and no life at all in the end.

I look at her and marvel.

How can someone enter her life and not see her? And not sense her struggle, her passion, her need to be loved.

How can they not understand what she is made of, what makes her happy, loyal? What makes her a good lover.

A good mother.

This woman, for whatever reason, has tried.

She’s tried to love and understand. She fought the battle. She lost the battle.

Her eyes no longer hold the optimism of the very young and don’t carry the settled wisdom of the sage.

She’s at that point in her life where the first steps she took brought her to a dead end. A wall. A locked door.

And now she doubts herself. Her gut. Her intuition. Perhaps the way she is.

Her story glints in her eyes.

There are things she pulls back from because she thinks it’s the right thing to do.

And there are things she knows would make her happy, but she doesn’t believe she can get them.

One lousy experience put a dent in her beliefs.

I caught her right there. At that point. No longer believing but somehow confused about the things I have to say.

My eyes go down, taking her in.

Her body looks like a home. A home for a man. A home for a child. Or more. Maybe it’s the moonlight veiling her from above, but everything sparkles when it comes to her.

Her blonde hair has a nice sheen to it, her eyes glint, her lips glisten, and her face glows.

She’s no longer nervous, although she stands in front of me, naked––Shade and Tara could walk in on us at any moment.

She doesn’t care.

She didn’t care in the car, but that was different.

That was lust. This is more intimate. My eyes hovering over her body create more ripples in her heart that my hands on her could, or my hardness entering her would.

She waits for me to say something, anything. I doubt she doesn’t know how beautiful she is.

Maybe she doesn’t, because the people before me didn’t want to tell her, fearing she might go away.

She went away anyway.

Some men like to destroy women like her.

Her neck is delicate, her collarbones meticulously sculpted, her breasts made to fill my hands.

The lines of her body tapper slightly before flowing into the expansion of her hips and retracting again into the outline of her legs.

Her eyes don’t leave my face even when I move my gaze over her body. I lift my eyes and cup her cheek, closing the space between us and locking her lips.

Her sigh of relief flows into my lungs.

“You are so damn beautiful… “ I murmur against her lips, my fingers brushing up against her thighs before curling around her breasts.

Goosebumps dot her skin beneath my touch, her nipples getting hard. Her arms go around my neck, her body pressing into mine, my jacket falling from her shoulders.

I catch it and drop it on the table before I loop my arms around her body.

She trembles with delight, my fingers splaying over her spine, sliding to her lower back and backside as she gets hotter, running her hands over my neck and pressing her hips into my groin.

I’m hard, pulsing, twitching. That’s how I was the entire trip.

My hand slides into her hair as she starts moaning quietly, asking for more, needing me more.

Our lips and tongues roll together for a few more seconds before I break the kiss and start trailing her neck with my mouth, slightly kneading her rear and moving my touch to her front.

Smoothly, I move down, my lips on her tits, my hands kneading her chest until my mouth starts trailing to her lower stomach, and I squat in front of her, kissing the flesh between her folds.

Her gasps echo in the summer night, her fingers digging into my shoulder.

Propped against me, she parts her legs while I press my mouth straight on her clit.

She shudders with pleasure, a muted moan falling from her lips. I nudge her leg up and drape it over my shoulder so I have full access to her and show her how her body needs to be loved.

* * *

MAYA

Havingmy legs spread across a beautiful stranger’s face on the rooftop of a building was not how I envisioned this evening.

The moments I have imagined this man, a lithe, possibly scrawny, shy-looking guy, are long gone, that past so far removed from the reality of this sensual present.

I’m open to him, completely open.

I feel the air against my most sensitive, intimate spot.

I sense the slickness, the wetness, my warm flesh tingling against his mouth, his breath, and slight stubble–––that’s virtually invisible––all registering with my touch.

He presses his lips around my clit, and teases it with his tongue, spirals of delicious pleasure moving through my body at light speed.

Pressing his tongue against my tingling nub, he transfers fluid heat to my body, making the flesh underneath throb.

Soon, I find myself rocking my hips against his mouth, rubbing my clit against his touch.

How could I not do it?

I glance to the side, making sure we’re still alone.

It’s only us, the starry sky and the lit buildings in the distance.

Tara is still on her knees at Shade’s feet, and they’re far from over.

Even if they would come this way, I doubt we’d stop.

He bites my flesh, making me yelp.

My hair bristles.

My nipples pucker, my hand going to the back of his hair while he moves his head, licking me and sucking me––the way he fucks me.

No rush, no slacking, no stumbling around.

He moves his mouth lower while I tilt forward, chasing his touch, wanting his mouth as much as I want his erection.

He starts stroking me around my entrance, and I hardly mute a scream of pleasure, fast, shallow breaths rolling from my lips.

I don’t want this to end.

I’m wet. Too wet. Although he doesn’t mind it, licking every drop of wetness, putting more fire into my core.

My grip turns into iron pliers when he shoves his tongue inside me, kicking my pleasure up a notch. Just enough to start shuddering, clenching, throbbing, and tingling, my nails biting into his shoulder.

He doesn’t break away from me until the last aftershock sweeps through me, and my grip slackens, my heaving fading.

I finally set my foot down, but I can’t stand on one good leg––the other one is numb.

He straightens and holds me, my hands slipping to his skin.

Dazed, I start kissing his chest, worshiping his body, stroking his washboard abs, inching closer to his belt.

He clutches my elbow, pulls me to him, and pivots at the same time, leaning against the wall.

One hand holds me, the other working his buckle open and sliding his zipper down.

He unfastens his belt while I tug at his pants.

His erection slides against my hand.

I palm it, already lowered at his feet, my free hand on his thigh, my mouth closing around his crown.

The smell of his arousal floods my nostrils.

I flick my tongue around the tip of his erection, collecting the bead of pre-cum before taking him deep into my mouth.

He shudders against the wall, his body tensing, a grunt falling from his chest.

He opens his legs and fully props himself against the coarse concrete while holding my head with both hands, not pulling me toward him as I fill my mouth with him.

Every atom in my body glows, charged with clouds of electricity.

I feel him hard, so perfect, so smooth.

My fist does the rest of the job, wetting his hard flesh, making it glisten.

My eyes are on his hard-on, trimmed groin, and bumpy abs before crawling up to his broad chest. His pants slide lower, revealing his hips and the top of his butt. A dark tattoo peeks from under his open shirt.

Everything about him is insanely hot.

I think we’re no longer alone. Somewhere at the corner of my eye, two silhouettes register with me.

Tara and Shade walk across the terrace.

He saw us––I’m pretty sure he did––and nudges her away from us.

They move to the other side of the pool, where a few lounge chairs sit. A few are close to us too.

I look up at him.

Heavy with lust, his eyes glisten with a hungry smile, making me pull him deeper until he hits the back of my throat.

This is not a specialty of mine, but I can’t help myself.

The taste of him, his eyes, his torso––now naked as he pushes his shirt down to his elbows.

I see his tattoo in full splendor, his pecs rippling every time I pull him deep into my mouth, his hips tilted forward to meet my starved lips.

My hands slide to his thighs before pulling his pants even lower.

They creep down, falling under their own weight.

I stroke him for a few good moments so I can take him in from his ankles to his eyes. A smirk sits on his lips.

He has every reason to be cocky.

I run my hand up and cup his balls before pulling him into my mouth again.

I suck him with overt passion, getting high on his moans, the tension in his grip while guiding my head, and the heaving of his chest.

I revel in his raw hunger, the lust beaming in his eyes, the attraction he has for me filtered through his eyes.

He is nothing like the men I’ve seen before.

He rolls his bottom lip under his teeth while I close my eyes briefly, bobbing my head, taking him in as much as I can until I feel him tenser and tenser, his moans intensifying.

He straightens, his hand latched onto my head, moving his hard-on in and out of my mouth.

My flesh tingles while he takes over, dictating the rhythm, our eyes locked again.

He looks down at me, beaming with power, and I’m sure he’s about to blast his load down my throat when he pulls me up, takes my hand, and drags me to the nearest lounge chair.

He motions me to the soft pillows while he kicks off his shoes, shirt, and pants.

He removes my heels and comes on top of me. Without further introduction, he grabs his erection and pushes it into me.

My eyes widen with immense pleasure.

I think he just ushered me into heaven. The stars glimmer above his shoulders, his eyes twinkling with a smile.

I wish I could keep it a secret, but I can’t, and honestly, I don’t want to.

He’s going to be gone in a few hours, and I can say whatever the hell I want to say. I may or may not see him again.

And we might be different people by then.

What’s the point of holding back?

“You make me so happy…” I say quietly, not having much to base my words on, other than his touch, his words, the way he cares for me right now, and his undivided attention for me.

He slows down just a little, still moving on top of me, still rocking his hips, and entering my body, but also kissing me, not only my lips but also my cheeks, my hair, my eyes.

He smells good, and his touch is so warm.

I melt under him.

“You make me happy too,” he says in return, and even if it’s only something nice to say, it’s still chivalrous.

He moves hard into my body, the wet friction fueling our pleasure, while my eyes slide closed for a moment, enjoying his touch in this perfect setting.

I hope we can do this a few more times. I vow not to sleep a second. And not to let him sleep too.