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Henry and June
Charlie Rose |
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I noticed him the moment he entered
the dance hall - a
tall, thin, tortured looking man. He was definitely my
type. But when I made my way to approach him, Alison,
my best friend intercepted me.
"Not this one, Julia."
"Why not?"
"Have you seen how he walks?"
I watched my sexy guy cross the hall. He limped
heavily on his left foot.
"So," I said, "He's twisted his ankle."
"He's an amputee."
"Who is he?"
"His name is Henry Warner."
"I like him."
"I know," Alison smiled, " I see it in your eyes."
"So, why can't I go to him?"
"It's too soon. Henry was in a car accident six months
ago.
This is his first time back. He's unpredictable."
"What? You think that he'd kill me?"
"Probably not, but Henry could be abusive. You know, a
guy who feels sorry for himself might resent being
approached by a beautiful woman. Let Henry get on his
feet before approaching him.
"Was that a pun?"
"If the shoe fits," Alison joked.
For the rest of the evening, I danced with other men,
but from the corners of my eyes I watched Henry
Warner.
Henry didn't have the profile of a killer. He spent
the evening drinking with his friends. They were
white-collar types, maybe accountants, lawyers, or
actuaries. They drank without becoming drunk. They
were clever without becoming crude. In the center was
Henry. He radiated a charisma. There was a casualness
about him that reminded me of Kevin Costner. I would
have dismissed him as an all American boy if it were
not for his eyes. They were two open wounds of deep
blue undiminished by his gratuitous smile. There was
pain there, and it deepened the desire I had for him.
The next week dragged. It seemed like forever before
Friday arrived. I was desperate to see Henry again.
What if this time he didn't come? It was clear that
last week he had been invited by his friends.
I consider myself an attractive woman. At the model
agency, I am considered an "A" girl - blonde,
beautiful, and under age 25. But I still spent a
ridiculous amount of time primping. I wore my slinky
baby blue dress and my bridal white stockings.
That night I took my post, trying to be casual and
disconnected from my environment. Men loved that. It
fueled their passions knowing that a woman could walk
away and not look back. Inside though, I was boiling
lava.
One drink and four dances later, Henry made the scene.
This time he was alone. Alison had called in sick, so
there was no conscience warning me to be careful. I
was beyond that anyway. I had to make contact.
"Out of all the gin joints, you had to come into
mine," I smiled drawing his attention to me as he
approached the bar.
"What?"
"Casablanca. I'm sure that I destroyed the line. But
there is something so sexy about Bogart."
"Do you like movies?" he asked intrigued.
I nodded my head yes.
And so Henry invited me to his table. We drank and
talked about our favorite actors.
We gossiped about who was sleeping with who, and made predictions
of which movie would get this year's Oscar. It was great, but
after an hour of conversion, I was no closer to physical contact.
At last I made the leap. "Henry, would you like to
dance?"
Henry's smile froze. I glimpsed fear in his eyes.
"Julia, I don't think that's a very good idea. Not
that I don't want to dance with you, but my leg."
"I know that you were in an accident," I said.
"Alison, a friend of mine, told me. But, I had hoped
that we could dance together real slow."
Well, what could any man say to that? Henry stood up
and extended his hand. I took it and we walked to the
corner of the floor, and danced.
At first, I could feel his body trembling. I could
hear his heart pounding in my ears. After a song
though, Henry calmed down. He held me tighter. He
brought me close to him. I felt his heat. Henry felt
mine. This man had lost a leg, but his animal instinct
remained intact.
We laughed as we walked back to our table. We held
hands. After another drink, Henry took be back again.
This time, his hands found my ass. My body rubbed
against his. It was full of want. My body was grinding
against his hard-on. I mean, how could I not feel it.
"I can't do this any more," I whispered in his ear. I
caught him in my eyes and took his hand. I led Henry
to the coatroom, taking him inside behind the rows of
coats.
"You're a terrible tease, Henry. The way you've been
rubbing that thing against me. Well, it's time to show
me what you got. I can't stand you pressing against
me, and me not being able to touch it."
I kneeled down before him, and tugged at his zipper.
He bucked his pelvis at me a little. I kissed his hard
cock through his briefs, and than ran my fingers over
him. Without any additional hesitation, I whipped it
out. God, it was beautiful, a cock thick and pulsing
hard an inch from my lips. I ran my tongue over his
penis head.
"Julia, not here."
I stood up and smiled mischievously. "Henry, I need
you. I need you now." I lifted up my dress a moment to
reveal to him my pink panties. "So Mr. Warner, shall
we be going home?"
In the car, I had the advantage. Henry had to keep
both hands on the steering wheel, leaving him
vulnerable to my caresses. I couldn't get over the
feeling of his engorged penis. My hands kept touching
it, savoring how it pulsed.
We reached his building. Henry moved away from me as
he stepped out of the car. I opened the door, but he
was there pulling my out and crushing me against the
vehicle, his mouth eagerly kissing mine. Henry's hands
were wild things.
"Let's go up," I sighed.
Inside his apartment, we didn't have time to turn on
lights. Henry took me to his bedroom. He started
fumbling with his clothes.
"Stop," I pleaded, let me do that. With excruciating deliberation,
I unbuttoned his shirt. His ragged breath was audible. "You're my
boy toy", I thought to myself, "you're my tortured, handsome,
slave."
I unbuckled Henry's belt and slid it free. I unclipped
his pants and yanked them down along with his
underwear. I took Henry's cock all the way in my
mouth, my tongue swirling over his penis head and then
let him go. I walked away from him, pulling of my
dress.
"Come and get it," I teased, positioning myself
seductively on his bed.
With frenetic motion, Henry kicked himself free from
his clothing and was on top of me.
His hands were feeling up my breasts and rubbing
against my mound.
"Just do it," I moaned, "fuck me."
Then I saw that glimpse of fear peak from his eyes.
Six months being without a woman is a long time to
wonder if more than just the leg had been taken away.
I took Henry's massive, beautiful rod and guided it
into me. He gasped as his head split open my dripping
pussy lips. My hands grabbed his ass and I pushed him
into me. I knew that I wouldn't last long and started
rubbing my clitoris with my hands.
"You are so big. I love your big cock, Henry. Fuck me
with it!"
And he did, thrusting powerfully into me. Plunging
deep and then slowly pulling his cock near the
entrance of my mound, rubbing against my clit.
I lost it, scratching his back, pulling him deep
inside me, and screaming, "Fuck me! Fuck me!
"I'm coming!" Henry moaned in my ear, thrusting his
hips wildly.
"Yes!" I cried, "Come!"
He shot copious loads of sperm that filled me up and
dripped from my sopping hole.
I felt his tears on my cheeks. I knew that this was a
healing. I felt like crying too, but I couldn't stay
awake and fell asleep with my head rested on his
chest. |
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