Copyright © 2008 by Crystal Barela
The left wiper squeaked with every pass across the cracked windshield of my pick-up truck. Each swipe over the smooth glass caused my innards to cringe. Two feet of vinyl separated me from my girl, Carla.
It had been her idea to go to the strip club, not mine. Why was she so pissed I enjoyed watching naked chicks shake their asses? My dick was hard, just like Carla liked it. I shifted in the seat, wanting nothing more than for my woman to stop with this jealousy bullshit and suck my cock.
“Stop the truck.”
I gripped the wheel tighter. That little fantasy wasn’t going to happen. My eyes darted from the barely visible highway to Carla, her pale cheeks flushed with anger. Her beautiful bow lips were tightened into an angry line. Curly red hair sprung around her head in an angry halo. A bolt of lightening lit the sky and set the corkscrews aflame.
I wanted to put my hand in the fire. “Baby, I—”
“Stop the fucking truck!”
I slammed on the brakes and the truck fishtailed, my cowboy hat flying. Carla screamed grasping the door handle, as I grabbed hold of the steering wheel. The truck weaved back and fourth half a dozen times before it slid across the pavement into a crooked stop along the shoulder, horns honking around us.
“Asshole!” Carla’s breasts heaved, barely kept from view by the plunging white v-neck tank she wore. If you asked me, I was the one who should be jealous. Her jean skirt was practically a belt it was so short, showing off her long toned legs and her favorite red cowboy boots.
She flung the door open and jumped down to the pavement and immediately started cursing the rain.
What the fuck did she expect? They were in a monsoon.
In the review mirror I could see Carla had her thumb out.
Of all the—I picked up my hat and jumped out of the cab. Thunder shook the earth, followed by another flash of lightening. Carla was soaked through. Her already indecent tank top now made pornographic by the pounding rain. Dark nipples were clearly visible through the wet fabric. My dick twitched.
I grabbed her hitching hand and pulled her against me, bringing that thumb to the hardness beneath my fly.
“Pervert!” she screamed. But I saw the desire in her eyes in the passing car lights before she tried to shake from my grip. She was tall; the same height as me in her cowboy boots. Farm raising had made her strong. With difficulty I drug her behind the truck and pressed her against the cold rusty steel with my hips.
“Listen to me!” I shouted and she turned her head away. I grabbed her chin and forced her face foreword. Her hair was matted to her head. Mascara was now in wet tracks down her cheeks. Rain pounded down in a torrent, and in a flash of passing headlights I could see the pinking of Carla’s cleavage. God, she was hot.
“Nothing to say?” She whispered and her tongue took a slow ride around her lips. Carla swiveled her hips against mine, daring me. My eyes shot up and down the highway and I hesitated.
“Pussy,” she hissed.
“Bitch.”
I tugged her skirt to her waist.
She laughed.
Tore her thong.
My fingers slid between sopping wet folds of pussy.
My balls ached.
“I hate you!”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
She humped my hand as I worked open my fly. I’d give her those few moments before I fucked her. Let her ride my fingers.
Zipper down and cock out, I shoved her into the cab and grabbed her wet hair. I pushed her face into the wet cab seat. Carla’s round ass waved in the air as she tried to get away. I forced her legs apart and found my home between her thighs. My huge hard-on, slid through her ass crack, skidding to a stop at the entrance to her juicy hole. Thunder shook the truck and I plunged forward, hitting the back of her womb. She cried out and reached for the steering wheel. I took a hold of her shoulder in one hand and yanked her hair in the other. I forced her pussy onto my cock. Used her wet cunt to stroke my dick. I jammed her against me. Made her fuck me.
I was cold everywhere but where I bodies connected. The rain came down harder.
Carla wiggled a hand beneath her. I could feel her fingertips tugging her clit. I was too selfish. Too mad to help her get off. This was about my cock in her pussy. The velvet heat of her tunnel massaging my dick.
She was now pressing her ass back against me. I let go of her shoulder and slipped my hands around to fondle her breasts. Carla’s nipples were hard from the rain and the pussy pounding I was giving her. I pinched her nips and her cunt squeezed my dick. I tugged again, milking her tits so her pussy would milk my dick. With each snap of my finger her insides squeezed my cock.
Carla screamed my name and her body shook like a fish on the end of the line as she came. She fell limp against the seat and I squeezed her hips, jacking my prick until it went off, jets of come coating her insides.
“Those girls were hot, weren’t they?” Carla whispered satisfaction in every word.
For a moment, anger flared again, but I held it in check and pulled my dick from her pussy. Carla turned over, legs spread, rain pelting her bare thighs. I watched her hand slide over the skirt bunched at her waist and through the smooth skin of her pussy. She shifted on the seat so that the rain would hit her cunt lips and closed her eyes.
“Not as hot as you.”
She smiled. That was just what she wanted to hear.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
The Virgin Birth
Copyright © 2008 by Crystal Barela
A pain in my stomach woke me. The ache was sharp, deep and low in my belly. I held myself with my forearms and curled my knees up tight against me. Joe lay beside me, her face soft and peaceful in the shadow of the moonlight. A smile nearly turned my lips as I thought of her love, when another pain tore through my abdomen causing me to squeeze my eyes tight blackening out my lover’s face.
I rolled from bed and hobbled over to the front doorway, clutching my twisting innards.
Another slice of pain stabbed my stomach as I opened the door and fell to my knees in the dirt outside. My evening meal was tossed from my insides. Again I heaved, and set my hands on the ground, holding my face from the earth and tried to catch my breath. What had I eaten?
“Mary.”
I fell backward onto my rear at the sound of my name, searching the darkness. We lived miles from our nearest neighbor and I could see Joe lying in our bed sound in sleep.
“Greetings, Mary.”
There was no one, but the deep male voice echoing in my head. I got to my knees, and with a trembling hand wiped my mouth with the edge of my shift.
“Who speaks?” I found myself whispering even though the voice was loud and round in my brain.
“Show no fear, Mary of Nazareth.”
Easy for the voice to say.
“I am an angel of the Lord and have come to tell you the Lord looks upon you in favor.”
I shook my head rapidly, to remove the voice.
“You will bare a child, a boy child, whom you will call Jesus.”
“I am a virgin and will not lye with a man.”
“You will bare a child.” It was an order, not a request.
“What do you mean?”
“God has chosen you to be the mother of the Lord and in nine months time, you will give birth to the son of the Most High.”
“Please, who are you?” Another pain ripped my insides and I fell to the ground, clutching my churning guts.
“It is done!”
And the voice was gone; his last words an echo in my head. They pounded like someone had taken a rock and beat it against my skull. I retched again in the sand and lost consciousness.
***
Joe’s voice crying my name woke me before dawn. The usually confident alto was panicked, and although I assured her not to worry, there were tears on her face when I lifted my heavy lids.
She asked what had happened as she helped me sit up. I stood on shaky legs; her strong carpenter’s arms lifted me to my feet.
As Joe rapped her arm around my shoulder and led me inside, I explained to her that I had been ill, but I was well now.
Last night had been a dream I thought as she set me on the bed. Joe filled a bowl with water and brought it to me. I smiled up at her as she asked more questions, and explained them all away. I convinced myself my words were true. There was no pain in my stomach to reignite the fading memory. The words spoken to me in the black of the night seemed like a dream. Perhaps were a dream. Must have been a dream.
***
The early morning light of the rising sun caught in Joe’s brown hair, revealing the golds and reds that hid in the strands. She was bent over the table she had finished constructing yesterday. The steady crisp of sanding filled the chilled morning air. Joe had a talent with wood. Her calloused hands had kept us fed these past four years.
Four years we had traveled these sands. Partners. Friends. Lovers.
“Are you well then, Mary?” she asked, not looking up from her work.
The bitter taste of bile still coated my mouth. “Not so much,” I said. I rest my hand on my quaking stomach.
Joe looked up, her cheeks and nose held the sun from yesterday’s walk into town. She stood a frown on her face. “You do not take ill.”
That was true. It was a rare day when I was sick. It was also rare that my flow was late. I did not know if Joe had noticed but two months had passed since my time and I feared that my sickness had nothing to do with being ill.
The very thought was not possible.
“I am with child.”
Joe’s lips twitched. “You tease me, Mary.”
I shook my head. “I would not joke of this.”
Expressions raced across Joe’s face as she crossed over to me. Disbelief, joy, confusion, anger.
“When?” She was the same height as me and her blue eyes drilled into mine.
“Ten weeks have past.”
“Who is he.”
“There has been no one. Only you.”
“That is not possible,” she said and took my shoulders. I had to agree. A man was involved in the making of a child. “Was it David?”
My shoulders relaxed beneath her palms. “No.” At least she was not accusing me of infidelity. She was afraid I had been forced. David’s farm was half a day’s ride from here, and he had a fondness for me that I did not return. He was aggressive in showing his affection that went beyond words. Two weeks ago, Joe had gone into town to purchase supplies and had come back to find me barricaded inside the house, David trying to force his way into our home.
“I can not explain it Joseah,” I said. Indeed. My hand came to rest on my flat stomach. Perhaps my late flow and sickness had nothing to do with giving birth to a child. Perhaps I was sick in some other fashion.
“Joseah,” I said, taking her wrists and bringing them to her sides. “Please come to the house.”
***
That night we lay just inches from each other but Joe was miles away in thought. She did not touch me and for that I could not blame her. This went on for weeks. A silent confused partnership. I could not remember a moment in our friendship that it had been thus; a time
when we did not talk ourselves to sleep at night.
Five months passed. I stood bathing. I ran the rag along my body. Over my now fuller breasts and over the swelling roundness of my belly. I did not think I looked pregnant yet, but as though I had overeaten at a few suppers. Joe’s eyes were watching my hands and I felt a need to move them slower. To linger over my abulation so that the water would follow the curves of my figure and ignite Joe’s hunger for me. I ached with longing of months of abstinence and hopped that at last Joe would soon come around to knowing I was faithful and true to her. I only wanted her.
My eyelids drifted shut and I said her name.
The sound of the door shutting behind Joe was my answer.
***
The sun was setting when I found Joe outside her shed. Again she was sanding diligently, but using water as she worked to curve the length of wood. Her robe was soaked through and the curls around her forehead wet from her efforts. One curved length of wood lay completed on the ground.
I asked her if she had received a new commission. She shook her head no, and continued her work.
It was then that I noticed an elongated box. The foot and head were two ornately carved with flowers and singing birds. The sides were smooth, except for the lip of the box that was scalloped.
This was a rocker. For the baby. My stomach dropped and I felt the baby turn my insides in response.
I clutched my abdomen in surprise. I must have cried out because Joe was at my side.
“What is it?”
“The baby!”
“The baby what?”
“He moved!”
I placed her larger hand on my stomach and again the baby threw a foot forward to kick Joe in the palm. Not even the orange of the sun setting behind could hide the color that drained from her face.
“We really are pregnant.” Even after hours of laboring over a rocker for the unborn child, Joe had not been convinced that I was carrying our baby. And with that kick first kick we both knew it was true.
***
That night we lay in bed. I was nude, my hand lying upon my belly and Joe was beside me. I could practically hear her thinking.
“You said ‘he’ moved.”
It was a bit strange to think that we, two women, would be bringing a boy child into the world.
Logic would dictate that we have a girl. But if the voice was truthful, the babe would be a boy. I could hear the amusement in Joe’s voice. Before I could change my mind I took hold of her hand and rest beneath mine over our child. I told her of the voice in the darkness.
“So you have let go your wits then?”
Laughter exploded from me in response and I hugged the babe beneath my skin, happy that Joe found humor in the situation. Glad that my joy translated into a flurry of movement inside.
“What if I am crazy?”
“And this is just a bit of weight gain and indigestion?”
What if he weren’t real? And I was touched in the head?
Joe sat up and leaned in close over my belly and placed a sweet kiss on the soft swell.
“Welcome,” she said. And with that simple gesture months of uncertainty and doubt washed away. We were again Mary and Josiah.
A thousand kisses rained over my belly as if Joe’s love would protect us. Keep me and the baby safe. Lips and tongue warmed my breasts with open mouth kisses before her lips found succor in mine.
Wet heat enveloped my body. My hands ached with wanting to feel every muscle, touch every centimeter of skin, but her smooth tongued mouth said, “slow love, careful love.”
Joe was my oxygen. My every breath fed to me by her soft lips. The palm of her hand pet my stomach in slow circles, then followed the soft trail of blond hair that led to my center. And there while she suckled my tits like a babe herself, her fingers tangled in the hairs of my womanhood. She pulled and tugged the soft curls, milking my insides for juices.
Like an oasis in the desert, my thighs parted for her to swim in. First her hand dove and splashed between my lips. Her thumb lingering on my throbbing hard nubbin, but her lips jealous of not getting to play, replaced her thumb and drank of my bounty. Licked and nuzzled, sucked and dallied. My hips rose from our bed, and her face drove me down again. Tongue wide and flat lapping my hole.
Wet my wetness. Her nose nudged my singing pearl over and over again.
It was as if Joe wanted to climb inside my womb and be with our baby. As if nine months were a lifetime and today she must find her way inside to lie safe with him. As if being apart were no longer an option.
The pressure built and all I could see was Joe. The red of hair in the firelight. Her brown eyes warm and alive as she looked up my body. Her toned buttocks rocking the foot of the bed while she pleasured me. The smell of summer sand cooling beneath the stars. The coppery taste of blood on my lip where I bit too hard. The scratch of the bed sheet on my backside as I rose to her touch again and again. My secret noises colored the air as I pleaded with her to take me to her. To bring me home.
Home and the dark became light. The voice that spoke me on that night spoke again: “Jesus will be born in love.”
Light filled my vision and I could see nothing but the sun, round and huge filling our house as my body vibrated in pleasure. In the distance I cold hear Joe’s voice cry out my name like a prayer.
We fell to the mattress as if from a great height, Joe’s head pillowed on our unborn child.
“We will call him Jesus,” Joe said.
I knew she knew. I wasn’t crazy. It was my turn to weep.
A pain in my stomach woke me. The ache was sharp, deep and low in my belly. I held myself with my forearms and curled my knees up tight against me. Joe lay beside me, her face soft and peaceful in the shadow of the moonlight. A smile nearly turned my lips as I thought of her love, when another pain tore through my abdomen causing me to squeeze my eyes tight blackening out my lover’s face.
I rolled from bed and hobbled over to the front doorway, clutching my twisting innards.
Another slice of pain stabbed my stomach as I opened the door and fell to my knees in the dirt outside. My evening meal was tossed from my insides. Again I heaved, and set my hands on the ground, holding my face from the earth and tried to catch my breath. What had I eaten?
“Mary.”
I fell backward onto my rear at the sound of my name, searching the darkness. We lived miles from our nearest neighbor and I could see Joe lying in our bed sound in sleep.
“Greetings, Mary.”
There was no one, but the deep male voice echoing in my head. I got to my knees, and with a trembling hand wiped my mouth with the edge of my shift.
“Who speaks?” I found myself whispering even though the voice was loud and round in my brain.
“Show no fear, Mary of Nazareth.”
Easy for the voice to say.
“I am an angel of the Lord and have come to tell you the Lord looks upon you in favor.”
I shook my head rapidly, to remove the voice.
“You will bare a child, a boy child, whom you will call Jesus.”
“I am a virgin and will not lye with a man.”
“You will bare a child.” It was an order, not a request.
“What do you mean?”
“God has chosen you to be the mother of the Lord and in nine months time, you will give birth to the son of the Most High.”
“Please, who are you?” Another pain ripped my insides and I fell to the ground, clutching my churning guts.
“It is done!”
And the voice was gone; his last words an echo in my head. They pounded like someone had taken a rock and beat it against my skull. I retched again in the sand and lost consciousness.
***
Joe’s voice crying my name woke me before dawn. The usually confident alto was panicked, and although I assured her not to worry, there were tears on her face when I lifted my heavy lids.
She asked what had happened as she helped me sit up. I stood on shaky legs; her strong carpenter’s arms lifted me to my feet.
As Joe rapped her arm around my shoulder and led me inside, I explained to her that I had been ill, but I was well now.
Last night had been a dream I thought as she set me on the bed. Joe filled a bowl with water and brought it to me. I smiled up at her as she asked more questions, and explained them all away. I convinced myself my words were true. There was no pain in my stomach to reignite the fading memory. The words spoken to me in the black of the night seemed like a dream. Perhaps were a dream. Must have been a dream.
***
The early morning light of the rising sun caught in Joe’s brown hair, revealing the golds and reds that hid in the strands. She was bent over the table she had finished constructing yesterday. The steady crisp of sanding filled the chilled morning air. Joe had a talent with wood. Her calloused hands had kept us fed these past four years.
Four years we had traveled these sands. Partners. Friends. Lovers.
“Are you well then, Mary?” she asked, not looking up from her work.
The bitter taste of bile still coated my mouth. “Not so much,” I said. I rest my hand on my quaking stomach.
Joe looked up, her cheeks and nose held the sun from yesterday’s walk into town. She stood a frown on her face. “You do not take ill.”
That was true. It was a rare day when I was sick. It was also rare that my flow was late. I did not know if Joe had noticed but two months had passed since my time and I feared that my sickness had nothing to do with being ill.
The very thought was not possible.
“I am with child.”
Joe’s lips twitched. “You tease me, Mary.”
I shook my head. “I would not joke of this.”
Expressions raced across Joe’s face as she crossed over to me. Disbelief, joy, confusion, anger.
“When?” She was the same height as me and her blue eyes drilled into mine.
“Ten weeks have past.”
“Who is he.”
“There has been no one. Only you.”
“That is not possible,” she said and took my shoulders. I had to agree. A man was involved in the making of a child. “Was it David?”
My shoulders relaxed beneath her palms. “No.” At least she was not accusing me of infidelity. She was afraid I had been forced. David’s farm was half a day’s ride from here, and he had a fondness for me that I did not return. He was aggressive in showing his affection that went beyond words. Two weeks ago, Joe had gone into town to purchase supplies and had come back to find me barricaded inside the house, David trying to force his way into our home.
“I can not explain it Joseah,” I said. Indeed. My hand came to rest on my flat stomach. Perhaps my late flow and sickness had nothing to do with giving birth to a child. Perhaps I was sick in some other fashion.
“Joseah,” I said, taking her wrists and bringing them to her sides. “Please come to the house.”
***
That night we lay just inches from each other but Joe was miles away in thought. She did not touch me and for that I could not blame her. This went on for weeks. A silent confused partnership. I could not remember a moment in our friendship that it had been thus; a time
when we did not talk ourselves to sleep at night.
Five months passed. I stood bathing. I ran the rag along my body. Over my now fuller breasts and over the swelling roundness of my belly. I did not think I looked pregnant yet, but as though I had overeaten at a few suppers. Joe’s eyes were watching my hands and I felt a need to move them slower. To linger over my abulation so that the water would follow the curves of my figure and ignite Joe’s hunger for me. I ached with longing of months of abstinence and hopped that at last Joe would soon come around to knowing I was faithful and true to her. I only wanted her.
My eyelids drifted shut and I said her name.
The sound of the door shutting behind Joe was my answer.
***
The sun was setting when I found Joe outside her shed. Again she was sanding diligently, but using water as she worked to curve the length of wood. Her robe was soaked through and the curls around her forehead wet from her efforts. One curved length of wood lay completed on the ground.
I asked her if she had received a new commission. She shook her head no, and continued her work.
It was then that I noticed an elongated box. The foot and head were two ornately carved with flowers and singing birds. The sides were smooth, except for the lip of the box that was scalloped.
This was a rocker. For the baby. My stomach dropped and I felt the baby turn my insides in response.
I clutched my abdomen in surprise. I must have cried out because Joe was at my side.
“What is it?”
“The baby!”
“The baby what?”
“He moved!”
I placed her larger hand on my stomach and again the baby threw a foot forward to kick Joe in the palm. Not even the orange of the sun setting behind could hide the color that drained from her face.
“We really are pregnant.” Even after hours of laboring over a rocker for the unborn child, Joe had not been convinced that I was carrying our baby. And with that kick first kick we both knew it was true.
***
That night we lay in bed. I was nude, my hand lying upon my belly and Joe was beside me. I could practically hear her thinking.
“You said ‘he’ moved.”
It was a bit strange to think that we, two women, would be bringing a boy child into the world.
Logic would dictate that we have a girl. But if the voice was truthful, the babe would be a boy. I could hear the amusement in Joe’s voice. Before I could change my mind I took hold of her hand and rest beneath mine over our child. I told her of the voice in the darkness.
“So you have let go your wits then?”
Laughter exploded from me in response and I hugged the babe beneath my skin, happy that Joe found humor in the situation. Glad that my joy translated into a flurry of movement inside.
“What if I am crazy?”
“And this is just a bit of weight gain and indigestion?”
What if he weren’t real? And I was touched in the head?
Joe sat up and leaned in close over my belly and placed a sweet kiss on the soft swell.
“Welcome,” she said. And with that simple gesture months of uncertainty and doubt washed away. We were again Mary and Josiah.
A thousand kisses rained over my belly as if Joe’s love would protect us. Keep me and the baby safe. Lips and tongue warmed my breasts with open mouth kisses before her lips found succor in mine.
Wet heat enveloped my body. My hands ached with wanting to feel every muscle, touch every centimeter of skin, but her smooth tongued mouth said, “slow love, careful love.”
Joe was my oxygen. My every breath fed to me by her soft lips. The palm of her hand pet my stomach in slow circles, then followed the soft trail of blond hair that led to my center. And there while she suckled my tits like a babe herself, her fingers tangled in the hairs of my womanhood. She pulled and tugged the soft curls, milking my insides for juices.
Like an oasis in the desert, my thighs parted for her to swim in. First her hand dove and splashed between my lips. Her thumb lingering on my throbbing hard nubbin, but her lips jealous of not getting to play, replaced her thumb and drank of my bounty. Licked and nuzzled, sucked and dallied. My hips rose from our bed, and her face drove me down again. Tongue wide and flat lapping my hole.
Wet my wetness. Her nose nudged my singing pearl over and over again.
It was as if Joe wanted to climb inside my womb and be with our baby. As if nine months were a lifetime and today she must find her way inside to lie safe with him. As if being apart were no longer an option.
The pressure built and all I could see was Joe. The red of hair in the firelight. Her brown eyes warm and alive as she looked up my body. Her toned buttocks rocking the foot of the bed while she pleasured me. The smell of summer sand cooling beneath the stars. The coppery taste of blood on my lip where I bit too hard. The scratch of the bed sheet on my backside as I rose to her touch again and again. My secret noises colored the air as I pleaded with her to take me to her. To bring me home.
Home and the dark became light. The voice that spoke me on that night spoke again: “Jesus will be born in love.”
Light filled my vision and I could see nothing but the sun, round and huge filling our house as my body vibrated in pleasure. In the distance I cold hear Joe’s voice cry out my name like a prayer.
We fell to the mattress as if from a great height, Joe’s head pillowed on our unborn child.
“We will call him Jesus,” Joe said.
I knew she knew. I wasn’t crazy. It was my turn to weep.
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