I couldn't remember what we'd decided about her risk. I
pulled out and fisting my cock, I stroked it once, twice and a
third time when I exploded. The first thick white rope of cum
landed on Jean's thigh. The next on Margi's chin and throat and
the last on her chest and belly. A few more dribbles ended up in
my hand. I looked at the warm white puddle in my hand and then
reached out and wiped it across Jean's breast. Her nipple was
pebble hard.
We fell silent. Frozen in the tableau, Jean sat back on her
heels, freeing Margi's face. I fell back on my heels and looked
at the wreckage. The only sound was our panting. I couldn't
really tell which was mine.
Margi slowly lifted her head and make eye contact. We
looked at each other but didn't talk. Couldn't talk. We were
drained.
Margi ran her finger through a glob of my cum on her chest
and looked at it. She looked back at me and then placed the tip
of her finger in her mouth, tasting me.
Jean watched silently and then similarly picked up a clot of
my jism with her finger and tasted it as well.
The CD was still playing, but I'd not heard it in the past
while. Gradually I heard again the waves on the beach as I
reentered reality.
I looked down. I was still holding my cock, now soft and
shriveled. It looked almost pathetic, that once proud weapon now
reduced to a soft, wet noodle.
Jean cupped her cunt and held it for a moment before asking
in a whisper, "Well, stud, how do you feel now?"
"There are no words."
"We finally got to 'do it' Billy."
"Yeah. I wonder if we'll ever get any closer, Jean?"
"I don't know, Billy. Maybe not. Maybe this is it. I just
don't know. But I am sure of one thing . . ."
"What's that?"
"We'll never be able to go back. You can't go home again."
Because we're still very much alive, Jean and I, there's no
real ending to this story. Still, for now, it needs to end
somewhere and this is it.
I've taken the remembering, the reliving, the healing of it
all as far as I needed to. I have other things to write, things
apart and away from Jean.
More, I have a jazzy life to live and the vibrancy of the
moment, the here and now, is more vital than the sweet memories
of what once was. Given then and given now, it's a no-brainer.
I'll go with the present moment any day.