Angel

He was only 21, a bit awkward around an older married woman, and perhaps lonely for his home far away in Wyoming. We had met accidentally in the laundry room of the apartment house that was our temporary resting spot for the summer. Perhaps the thought of me had colored his dreams, but I was guileless up to the moment his lips touched mine. He saw no other way to stop my crying than by covering my mouth with his own, so our first kiss tasted of the salt of my tears. None of our previous innocent evenings together had prepared us for the startling and unexpected passion the kiss invoked. I hesitated only briefly when he suggested we move from my shabby rented room to his slightly shabbier one upstairs, in the interest of privacy and discretion. His narrow bed proved more than adequate for our needs as he proceeded slowly and gently through the lovemaking, kissing the bruises left by my abuser, making me believe in tenderness again. His body was an unexpected treasure; for free from the confines of his Clark Kent disguise he had a slim but muscular build, a chest and back covered with silky black hair, and legs and arms that were strong and well formed. He seemed equally delighted to discover my own body, and for one so young he processed amazing control, taking time to touch, kiss, and adore every inch of my skin.

His gentle firm hands ignited my yearning, and though I was the older woman, I gave in blissfully to his pace, his command. When his hand finally slid between my legs, my back arched reflexively to meet his exploration. He had been fully engorged for some time as I could attest to with my own hand as I rubbed the pre ejaculate in teasing circles around his swollen head. We rolled from our side by side position in one fluid motion, and as he rose and knelt between my spread legs, I smiled up at the beauty of his perfect young body. Sliding forward till my breast were crushed against his chest, he put one finger inside of me, and seconds later his cock took its place. I gasped sharply at the sudden insertion and he slowed, fearful of hurting me. My hands moved immediately to his buttocks to pull him more deeply inside, because I was wet and ready, and wanted nothing more than for him to press forcefully on, despite the moment of pain. My world narrowed to the ecstasy of our movements and I let the waves of pleasure move me past the trauma of past days and months. I don’t remember closing my eyes, but I recall vividly opening them to see him watching the joy he had given me play across my face. I wrapped my legs around him and paced the rhythm of his thrusts until he collapsed in shuttering spent rapture.

We lay together soaked in sweat with no desire to disengage, no urgency to ever leave his tiny room. Finally he rolled me gently with him back to side by side and I made a soft sigh in my throat as he slipped out of me. He pulled my face to his and kissed me again. I discovered I could still talk when he let me go and I asked a lover’s question, “Who taught you?”

“You did” came his unexpected reply.

I lay there speechless, holding him, feeling a pang of guilt that I had been a corrupting influence. After a very short time he took my hand and placed it on his newly risen member. Well, the deed was already done and he seemed eager for more corruption. There have been devils in my life before and since, but I will always remember his angel face as he pulled my long hair away from his stomach in order to watch my mouth at work. Long after the window filled with darkness, we were still delightfully entwined.