Aunt Jean, Ron, and...

When Jean felt the first tingling wave of pleasure course though her, she ironically almost got angry.

"Ron... I want you in my mouth right now. It's my turn."

"Not yet."

She felt another shivering tingle as his tongue pushed into her. "Okay-okay... um... mutual... mutual, okay?" Last summer Ron had called it "69" and Jean had asked him to call it "mutual oral," because she didn't like the term "69." He had laughed and agreed to it. They didn't really use any word for it most of the time, they used body language mostly when they made love now. And they knew each other much better now too. Ron agreed, told her she better be on top, and that he only wanted her to suck the head, suck it really hard.

She knew he wanted to be on the bottom because he was really horny too and even though it had never happened, he kept telling her that he was concerned he'd unthinkingly push into her mouth and make her gag when she was on the bottom and she'd not be able to pull back. His statement always made her feel a little guilty because she had no hesitation pushing her pussy to his mouth.

They shifted into position. She grabbed his cock, bent it down, and took him into her mouth. For the first few minutes she ignored his "head only" instructions until he pulled his face back from her pussy and told her again in his edgy voice. She then did as he asked, knowing that maybe later she'd do whatever she wanted. She also knew it meant he wanted to be inside her for a long time, that he wanted to be able to control himself better with a slightly numbed head. She still wondered if that was true or just some weird psychological thing for him. He swore it numbed it a little though.

After a few minutes, at nearly the same moment, they both said they wanted his cock inside her. Jean turned quickly and straddled him with her knees, taking him inside but she wasn't in the dominant position for long. Ron sat up and after that over the next thirty minutes, they moved into many of the positions that were part of their repertoire, and a couple they invented on the spot. Their hands continually explored each other, touching, feeling, stroking, caressing. The tempo of their movements varied from slow to hurried, their touches from tender to wild. Ron as he did sometimes seemed not to get enough of kissing her face and running his fingers like combs through her dark brunette hair, mussing it up, making it look wild. Jean loved it, thought it was both passionate yet a little funny too, she sometimes felt deliciously wanton or sometimes giggled breathlessly while Ron played around.

Finally they moved into a doggy position, Jean with her head and shoulders on the sheet. They both got wild, Ron slamming into her, his groin smacking her bottom, which Jean shoved back with unrestrained desire. She desperately wanted him to reach orgasm with her, which proved impossible when his hand slid beneath her and his fingertip diddled and stroked her shivering clit. She nearly screamed when she peaked. Ron drove his cock deep and grinded into her and against her ass as her semi-controlled writhing body pushed back against him. As usually happened, she lost all control as she thoroughly peaked, then on the downslope of that her entire body felt rubbery, and Ron's steady pushing and churning drove her flat onto the mattress, sliding her torso higher on the bed. She felt his hot breaths and his wet, warm lips kissing her shoulders and any part of her he could reach.

When she caught her breath she told him, almost complained to him, that he hadn't reached orgasm too. He said he almost had but stopped himself. She asked him why. He said he wanted to be looking into her eyes when he did. In a flash of a second she had almost cried when he said that, but restrained herself. Instead she tightened her pussy, heard him growl in response and told him again that she loved him.

That was twenty minutes ago. Ron hadn't shrunk at all while they rested, and now they were doing it again. Nothing fancy and Jean was glad about that. Their movements were passionate, yet slow and deliberate. She gazed into his wonderful eyes and sensed herself not only on her way to peaking yet again, but felt her heart melting just from the heat of their love alone.

Her body rocked rhythmically towards the headboard then back towards Ron as if the bed were their private ocean, waves slowly, ever so slowly increasing in force and turbulence.

Her eyes were locked with Ron's, two pairs of blues saying and singing lovers' wordless chants, litanies, conversing using a million words of a silent language expressing their love, their passion, telling each other of the strength and depth of their joined love, their joined bodies, sometimes there were just soundless shouts and screams of joy and pleasure at the knowledge of that mutual love, and about their oneness of heart, soul, body during this ultimate closeness, this slice of time where no one else existed, only them, them as nearly one entity, swaying, rocking, floating on their sea of love.

This wasn't the love-filled yet lusty, needy, groping, urgent passion they shared downstairs, the result of too much time apart, craving an immediate release due to weeks without the other. Although when they were together, living in the same house, those urgent needs grew then too. Part of their passion was almost a counterintuitive greediness, craving to show the other how much desire there was, how much pleasure they wanted to give the other and in that unbridled physicality gaining that rapture for their partner and only secondarily for themselves too.

Right now, as it was in their joining downstairs, it was giving and taking, making and sharing love, a slightly different sea than earlier but equal to it, the same depth, the same intensity of emotion, the same love surrounding them.

She knew, and so did Ron that probably in a few minutes they would be as crazy as they had been on the couch and floor, yet there would be something slightly different about it because even as they rushed to another fulfillment, they'd each know there was no necessity to hurry, and they could savor every moment more, both sensually and emotionally. This was the best way they made love, although no less nor more than what they had done earlier really. It as just different... maybe a little better, but mainly just different.

It was one way of their varied ways of making love, of showing love, of communicating in their love. They had many other ways short of sex, kisses to her cheek when she was preparing a meal, when he'd bring her an iced glass of cranberry juice, when they sat by the pool; hugs from behind she'd give him when he wasn't expecting it; the times they slow danced to ancient oldies like 'Unchained Melody.' They had first danced to it when they rented an old movie, Ghost. She mentioned she really liked the song. When the film was finished, Ron replayed the song segment on the DVD. That was the first time they danced to it. A few days later he gave her a CD of 'The Righteous Brothers Greatest Hits.' Since then they must have danced to that song two dozen times.

They communicated their love in numerous non-physical manners, with a smile, a glance, and laughter; with a written note, emails, even real letters; a little surprise gift; with actual words of love, caring, trust, openness, and even teasing. In all her fantasies after the accident, all the way to last summer, she never envisioned how wonderful, how intense, how fulfilling it would be to love and be loved... until Ron.

Jean kept her eyes locked with his. She whispered between her hurried breaths, "I love you, Ron... I love you with all my heart."

Ron's voice was equally soft, "I hope so, Jean... because... I love you even more." He smiled, then lowered his face to hers. He kept his cock sliding in and back within her as he gave her lips a soft kiss. His face stayed close. "Wanna move to another position? You on your side, me... ahh... you'll know what I mean when we move. I... I want to play with your little pearl."

"Quit worrying about me having an orgasm. I love what we're doing."

"Me too... but... let's move, then... we'll come back to this. Okay?"

She gave him a crooked smile. "I shouldn't have sucked your little head so hard."

Ron grinned. "I'm glad you did."

"Does that really help you control whe-"

He broke in, "Jean?"

"What?"

"Shut up and let's move."

"Kiss me again first."

He kept his hands beneath her shoulders cupping up around them, his elbows holding his chest off hers. His face descended as he pushed his cock deep, then churned his hips before his lips met hers. He sensed her legs fold a bit more, her heels digging into the mattress, then her pussy pushed firmly against him taking the last fraction of his manhood into her snug slippery warmth. He could feel the tip of his cock pressed against the end of her channel. He knew her large, taut clit was pressing into his pubic bone, stroking against it as her hips continued to sway and grind.

Her mouth opened wider, his tongue slid in and their well known yet always new oral dance began once again. In his heart Ron knew he'd never get enough of her, never want this to end, never want to be with any other girl. He loved her beyond words, beyond understanding really, and when their bodies joined like this, he knew it was only a part, a significant but really only a one part, one reason of all the reasons he loved her.

He felt her squirming intensify which automatically made his hips counter-mirror her movements while he pushed forward more forcefully. He felt her arms loosen, then her fingernails raked down and up his back. He growled into her mouth which made her churning hips take on more of an urgent rocking motion. He followed suit. He knew for sure now she didn't want to move into a another position, and realized he really didn't want to either anymore. His throbbing cock was moving again pulling back and thrusting into her hugging warmth. It was intense but not as crazy and wild as it had been a few times on the bed, and definitely not as wild as downstairs.

His mind was filled not only with the physical sensations of their lovemaking but everything about their love, everything about Jean. He had an epiphany. He had returned from school a couple days ago, had walked into the house, but hadn't really returned home until this evening. He was home, inside Jean. Jean was his home. Among everything else she was to him, she was his home. Maybe it was that thought, or Jean's movements intensifying, or how her channel squeezed around his cock a little tighter, that he felt himself take a giant leap towards reaching orgasm. He tried to hold back. He abruptly broke their kiss.

Ron gazed into Jean's eyes. Her mouth was open like his, they both were breathing raggedly. "Jean... I'm getting close." He huffed a couple breaths. "I want us... to cum together. Maybe w-"

Jean cut him off with a breathy giggle. "Oh god, Ron... just... cum in me again. I wanna feel it again. Please, honey. I've had so many orgasms already. Just... cum... cum in me." Jean's legs folded a little more making her knees rise. She thrust to meet his plunges with more force. She was a little tender but she'd wasn't going to tell him that. "Come on, honey." She thought about saying Fuck me, but she didn't want to break her mood, their mood. She was sure Ron thoughts were about love, just as her own were. She squeezed her channel even tighter around his sliding cock. She got the response she was hoping he'd give her. He thrust harder and...

Ron growled, "Jeezuz... I-I can't last much... longer."

Between her ragged breaths, Jean repeated herself, "Cum... cum in me, honey. Come on... I wanna feel it."

smat-smat-smat-smat...

Ron felt it again, his balls tightening. "Jean... I'm... arrrh... ah... Jean... I-I love... you! ARRRH!"

Ron's cock shoved deep then his body tensed tight as the first dollop of seed coursed up his manhood and spewed into Jean's channel. She kept churning below him, her pussy contracting over and over again. Even in the haze of his orgasm, he knew it felt different than her usual orgasmic spasms, she was making her pussy contract like that. after the fourth spurt, he gave her another half dozen thrusts and like happened a dozen times over the past year, his cock started pumping again. "Arrrrh!"

He saw Jean's eyes grow larger for a moment in surprise. Finally he collapsed on her, making sure his elbows held the majority of his weight off her. He was gasping breaths, his head turned away from hers, not wanting to exhaled his hot breaths against her. He was actually trembling from the force of his orgasm. He released a breathy silent chuckle about that.

For the next couple minutes, Ron continued gasping breaths, as did Jean. He was glad he again wasn't shrinking very fast. His hands moved from cupping her shoulders to her head, as he raised his own and gazed at her face. His fingertips gently combed her dark brunette hair away from her face. Her lips were parted as were his, she and himself both still trying to calm their breathing.

Ron kissed the corner of her mouth, took a few deeper, slower breaths, then gave her face a half dozen soft kisses. He gave no thought at all to her not flinching when he kissed her scarred, disfigured eye area. He felt her legs move around his lower back to hug him closer. She did that sometimes, like she never wanted to let him go.

He kissed her neck, her ear, then once more raised his head and gazed into her pretty, blue eyes. His fingertips again brushed hair away from her beautiful face. As he had so many times before, he wished he could stay inside her forever. With an open mouth, still raggedly breathing, he smiled softly, then took a slow deeper intake of air. Their breathing would take a few minutes to fully return to normal. "I love you, Jean, I wish I could describe how much, but I can never seem to find words good or big enough." He saw her eyes tear.

"Ron, I love you so much, more than I can describe too."

Ron smiled then kissed her lips again.

Jean smiled. "Put your head down, rest."

She had nearly peaked again, and her body was still shivering with delight, her womanhood still gripping around Ron's slowly diminishing manhood; her heart burgeoned with the love she had for him, that she shared with him, and with his love for her. While she listened to his breaths matching her own, her mind went back to earlier thoughts, first to the emotions and the sensual, erotic thrills of sharing their love and their bodies with each other, and then to even earlier thoughts.

Without wanting to, she again acknowledged to her herself that this was her last summer of love, of sharing like this and so many other ways. She knew she had been right nine months ago, that they were just postponing heartbreak, that if they continued it would be ten times worse, a thousand times worse. She had been selfish to let it continue, but she couldn't have stopped herself, maybe she wouldn't have been able to stop Ron either. She had believed him, that love could only be good no matter what. In her heart she still believed that, yet if it was always true, why did this have to be the last summer of love? She shut her eyes. Love wasn't the problem. What had Ron said in the restaurant? Rules and genetics were the problems. Not love, not love at all. The love was only good.

She recalled her silly, momentary fits of jealousy in the restaurant tonight. It really had nothing to do with the pretty waitress or even Kyli, who was beautiful. She was already thinking of autumn, Ron back at school, no 'special relationship' between them any longer. She wanted him to find a wonderful girl. Find love with that wonderful girl that even surpassed what he had for her and the love they shared. That would be such an inconceivable amount because she couldn't imagine that girl possibly loving him more than she herself did, nor could she imagine Ron loving that girl more than the love he had given her and still was giving her. She wanted him to find that girl, marry, have children, have everything that she herself had only dreamed of and would never have.

When she had made her decision almost two weeks ago now, that this had to be the last summer of love, she had cried for two hours straight, then on and off the rest of the day and into the night. She promised herself the next morning that she would wait until August to begin to discuss it with him, tell him, then they'd have a few weeks so say goodbye to each other as lovers. Since that morning she had backed away from her decision more than a few times, tried to convince herself that maybe, just maybe one more year wouldn't be that selfish, and when Ron went back to college in the autumn she'd just hope and pray he'd find some wonderful girl, that he'd call her and tell her, and they'd... break up.

Break up? That two word phrase wasn't large enough to describe what it would be for her, what it was going to be for her. When she tried to talk herself into believing one more year wouldn't be selfish, she knew she was lying to herself, that she was shirking her responsibility, not only to Ron, but to the very love she had for him and would continue to have for him. To hold him to her longer than the end of this summer would be so incredibly selfish and wrong. Ron had taught her to be brave, and she had to be brave about the end too.

It wouldn't end her love for him, but hopefully, in time, it would change that love, morph into something that was still intense yet acceptable, normal to the world around them. They would have to be apart for a while, not see each other, maybe even stay out of contact for a period of time. She prayed that would change his love if not her own. For a moment she wished with all her heart she hadn't yet made the decision, not only for herself, but for this summer, for both Ron and herself. He would know soon. She was sure he had already felt it at the restaurant. She knew they would talk before August. She knew they would talk soon. It wouldn't be right for her to keep it to herself for two months. As she stared at the ceiling, her eyes began to tear up, blurring her vision of the flat, white plain. She stared, emptied her mind for a moment and willed the tears away.

She heard their breathing approaching normal. Ron was using his elbows as always to hold his weight off her chest. His head was next to hers on the pillow, his face turned away because he didn't want to exhale hot breath on her. She arched her back and pressed her small breasts, still topped with taut nipples into his muscular chest, then swayed slightly, smearing her fleshy mounds against him. She heard his low growl, then felt his head move, turning towards her. His lips gave the side of her neck a moist, breathy kiss, her body responded with a brief shiver and made her pussy clench around his still half hard cock as her back descended to the sheet again.

"Urrrrh," Ron growled again, then kissed Jean's ear. He released a breathy, soft laugh, then whispered, "Let me rest for a few minutes."

Jean whispered back, "I don't want you to move. Rest. Let's stay like this for a while, sweetheart." She closed her eyes when he gave her neck, then her right temple kisses. He turned his face away again as his head hit the pillow once more.

He had kissed her disfigured area. Her eyes welled again. He had taught her so much! They had learned so much together! He had given her so much! He kept saying she was brave now because it had always been inside her. That was so wrong! He had given her that! He had changed her life! When she was with him she felt beautiful whether or not it was true! It was because he loved her! It was because they loved each other!