I haven't forgotten Jess and Jon but I've had to move them to a back burner for a time.
Confusion, joy and worry still reign (or so I hope).
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Jess eases out of bed, careful not to wake Jon. She realizes that in ten short days, ten horribly short days, they've developed routines. The realization brings a lump to her throat. This is the thing she'll miss the most, sliding out of bed and watching her lover sleep like a little boy. Sadness gives way to a smile. He's hard; there's nothing little boyish about his dick. The sight of his cock, bobbing like a living metronome over his belly re-ignites a fire that has yet to be extinguished. The fire is always there, in her belly, the back of her mind, always. She can be reading, talking to her mom, talking to Caitlin, daydreaming as she watches the pelicans, hardly aware of it, but it's there. After she cums, the fire is banked, where it smolders, untended, until fanned back into a blaze that consumes her.
How the hell can I be horny? Jesus, how many times did I cum yesterday? Three, or one long one, when we got back and again later in bed. I don't believe this. It's not possible. No one in real life fucks this much. Do they?
As there is no one to answer her unspoken question, she returns to bed. Without using her hands, she lays her cheek on his stomach and scoops his cock into her mouth. She tastes herself on his dick, her pussy, not her ass. She recalls her embarrassment at the mess they'd made yesterday. It wasn't much but enough to be embarrassing. Jon did his best to minimize her embarrassment. He cleaned himself up, then helped her do the same, kissing her face, neck, and shoulders the entire time. He tried to blame himself for not using the condoms he'd bought, thinking that they may have reduced the clean-up, but she'd shushed him.
She swallows his cock. She can feel stubble, on her cheek, at the base of his cock where his hair is already growing back. He doesn't stir as she holds him deep in her mouth, savoring the taste of their bodies and the musk of his well-fucked crotch.
She tightens her ass. She's sore but nothing terrible. She'd hurt much more the morning after she'd let that asshole, Alex, take her virginity. She tosses the thought away, like an unexpectedly moldy carton of yogurt and inhales slowly around Jon's cock. As her head begins to bob, unknown to her, in perfect time with his heartbeat, her thoughts drift back to the night before.
They'd gotten cleaned up. Deciding not to go out, she'd ordered room service. Hanging up the phone, she discovered that Jon had wandered out onto the patio. He was naked. She doubted he was naked to be provocative. He was setting a new canvas up on his easel; she imagined he'd simply forgotten to put on a pair of shorts. She settled for a flimsy cover-up and made her way onto the patio to watch, keeping one ear tuned for the sound of room-service knocking on the door. At first, she'd imagined he was simply prepping the canvas; that's how faint the pink was. He applied the paint with the largest brush he had in broad swooping swaths. He put that brush in his mouth and applied a dab of paint to his palette - yellow. A smaller brush adds almost invisible, much tinier swirls of color. Blue, then red, almost garish in its intensity, followed. The knock at the door had come. She'd signed and set the food on the dresser, hurrying back to the patio. She had peered at the painting, trying to make sense of the colors, and failed; thinned purple that ran like a tear down the canvas and a spiral of pencil-thin black had been added in her short absence. She liked what she was seeing but had been incapable of wedging it into a framework she understood, beyond that it was abstract. She'd never seen Jon do any abstract painting. She had no idea what one would call her brother's other work but, until last night, his work had always contained recognizable features. Not this one, this one had left her breathless and excited, yet utterly bewildered as to why.
Her parents had come walking down the beach path, Travis and Caitlin behind them. They stopped but didn't speak. By that point, even though barely an hour had passed since he set brush to paint, Jon seemed to be nearly finished. He stared, unblinking, for long minutes and then would add a single dot or squiggle of paint. Once, moving so quickly they'd all jumped, he'd picked up a tube of paint and squeezed an arching line of violet across one corner of the canvas, before planting his palm in the thick paint and sweeping his hand down the canvas, fingers pulling up and away from the canvas. And with that, he'd been done. He stepped away from the canvas and looked around, clearly surprised to see everyone watching him. His hands had moved toward his crotch, as awareness of his nudity had hit him, but he'd forced himself to stop. He'd nodded, said 'hi' and then apologized to their parents for being rude earlier in the day, told them 'good night' and went inside.
They'd stood there, the five of them, looking at the painting. It had been Caitlin who'd spoken. "I swear, I'm getting wet looking at this," she'd muttered. She'd blushed and looked away, as if she hadn't realized she'd spoken out loud. Jess had declined their invitation to dinner, added her good night to Jon's and had gone inside.
Jon had watched the paint off his hands and they had eaten then, sitting on the end of the bed that they no longer pretended one of them was sleeping in, staring at the dark screen of the television. Finished, they'd stood and undressed again. She'd asked him what his painting was of, what it meant. He had smiled at her, a smile that had caused her heart to skip, and told her to lie back on the bed. He'd made love to her, as quietly as they'd been noisy in the past. Before he came, he'd rested on one elbow, wiped his cock with the fingers of one hand and held them, first to his nose, then to hers.
"I painted your scent, Jess," he'd explained. She'd taken his fingers into her mouth and sucked at them as he came. The look on his face, as much as the feel of him inside her, had caused her to cum. Her orgasm was as slow and gentle and sweet as the look he'd given her and the way he'd moved inside her.
She recalls all of that now, recalls why it is his cock tastes of her pussy and his cum. He lies still beneath her, but she doesn't think he's sleeping any longer. She cups his balls and sucks his cock. She feels him tense and then her mouth is filled. There's not much; she doesn't care.
She moves up to lie beside him.
"That's way better than the alarm on my phone," he sighs. He turns his head to look at her. "What about you?"
"I'm good; I'm perfect. Go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."
He shakes his head. "No, bad idea. I'll have plenty of time for sleeping later. Breakfast? Swim? Want me to give you a bath? What?"
In the end, they did all three. They swam, showered, had breakfast near the pool and then returned to their room. Jon undressed except for the hemp boxers. As he did, Jess examined his latest painting.
"Is this really what you see when you, uh, smell me?" She shakes her head. "It sounds like I must stink, when I say, 'when you smell me' but how else can I say it."
"Not all smells are bad, certainly yours isn't." He smiles at her. "And, yes, that is the picture I have of your scent. Is that a better word? When you were brushing my hair last night, I inhaled you and let my mind go. That painting is as close as I can get to showing you what I smelled."
"It's beautiful. I thought so before I knew what it was. It's not like anything you've ever painted before."
Jon nods as he gathers his supplies and pushes the patio door open with one elbow. Jess follows him.
She's greeted by two quick, "good morning's" from her parents.
"Getting ready to go at it again, Jon?" James asks, peering over the top of the
Journal.
Jess is momentarily paralyzed by the thought that Jon is planning on painting the picture she'd requested, the one of her peering at him as she tongues his dick.
"Yeah, I'm not sure if I can make it work. I usually have a clear idea of what I want to paint or draw. I have a very clear idea of what I want to paint, it's not that, but I'm afraid I won't be able to see the details clearly enough for it to work."
