Just One Knight Pt. 02

Kell's Night with John

Kelly

The day had come, and the night was fast approaching.

I had a light salad alone with no conversation. I wasn't sure if I'd wanted Thomas to talk to me or not, fearful it would keep me from focusing on John. I needn't have worried, Thomas had nothing to say to me. What could I say to him? He knew I was about to give myself to another man. I got teary remembering a previous conversation.

Contemplating deeply Thomas had chewed on his lip then queried, "If I asked you not to go through with it ..."

My tears began to fall, stopping him in his tracks.

I answered, "I would do anything not to jeopardize us, but surely you understand my conflicted state does jeopardize us. Tonight, is my plan for taking us out of jeopardy."

I appreciated Thomas. He didn't roll over, he wanted an answer; I owed him that, I always owed him that. I owed him all of me, not just part of me while I was also partially in love with another man. My conflict undercut everything Thomas had done for me while also being a path back to the threshold of madness.

"Kell, just for argument's sake, would you stop if I asked you to?"

"Yesss."

I just didn't want to stop. That was the horrible painful truth. I just couldn't stay where I was. I didn't want to have John again. I wanted to be back in my right mind and true of heart. I wanted to be free of John! Which part didn't Thomas understand? I would've sworn he understood. "Yes, I would let it go. But Thomas please don't make me ..."

Thomas stood suddenly, stopping my explanation. He gave me a reassuring smile albeit coupled with uncertain eyes. He stepped away from the table, turned, and walked away.

I was breathless. He'd only wanted an answer after all. He got it. Though not completely the answer he wanted. I think his pride demanded he make one last attempt to avoid this evening. In the end Thomas decided his pride came in a distant second to my peace of mind. If he could make a trade like that, why couldn't I? This was anything but a two-way street. Thomas knew how sick I'd been, and he wanted me purged of demons and healthy. It was a matter of need, not want. My trade came later tonight.

I thought of what a wonderful man I'd been given. It seemed cruel of me to mess up his last wish before taking his whole world from him tonight. All he wanted was the simple reassurance that there would be a world left for him in the morning.

Thomas gave me another poignant gift: he removed himself so I didn't have to bid him farewell tonight, which would have been crushing. I knew he hated this. I silently implored him to not hate me while knowing he should, because I was about to enact the worst part: putting Thomas out of my mind. I told myself everything I would do tonight with John served a greater good. But there was nothing right about doing that to Thomas. Knowing I could make that decision made it feel much worse.

I sighed thinking that John was surely preparing himself for me now. I had a longer road on that score. I could pull myself together emotionally as I physically prepared for my evening with John. I shuffled off to the master bedroom and bath. All the things I needed to prepare for John were there - in my and Thomas' bedroom that he was exiled from. Everything that was Thomas' was now being prepped for John. This was a cruel infliction upon him. Would Tommy still believe I love him in the morning?

My skin crawled at the question. I forced the sensation away. I drained my current emotions as I did my hair, my face, my clothes, my scent, my everything, just like I did when I was with John. I thought of nothing but John. I thought of every good memory, every threshold in life we crossed together, every romantic memory I could dredge. While John wouldn't physically claim me until later tonight, by the time I left my dressing table I'd already be his woman again.

* * * * * *

I turned off most of the lights before I went into the master bath to make myself up. All I wanted was mood lighting and as little of that as possible. My mood was dark mirroring my surroundings. The situation was dark. It was so dark I couldn't see the details. I didn't want to see the details.

I'd finished preparing, transforming myself as best I could, even in matters of personal grooming, back into the girl I was when I was with John. A tell-tale sign was that I still had a partial bottle of the perfume I used to wear for John. I should have discarded it long ago, certainly before moving in with Thomas.

Nope. Stop that, don't think of him!

My hair, my scent, my makeup, was vintage John. I hadn't worn much lingerie for John, but what I wore now what was reminiscent of what I had then. Back then I felt very hot but, also very inhibited when it came to stretching boundaries like that. It surely would have changed with living together, but we never reached that point. We were with each other all day running around but still lived with our parents. We were still in community college. We stole precious few nights together. We did plenty before going back to our respective homes though.

Back then even if we had hours to spend together, we were so eager to get things rolling the preliminaries suffered. Even if I'd worn very feminine under garments, I wasn't wearing them long. Sometimes they were simply pulled down to my knees or ankles in case we needed to make a quick getaway. If we had a chance to be fully naked, our clothes flew off so we could make the most of our limited time. We were like kids stealing treats in the candy store.

When I'd finished my preparations, I opened the bedroom door as I'd explained I would. The condo was dark in the main living space. It was dark in the hall. It was dark in the master bedroom. I needed the dark. There was only enough lighting for mood. I didn't hear anyone enter the bedroom, I decided to investigate. I ventured out from the bedroom down the hall into the living room ready for what was about to be. I stopped moving forward shortly after my heart stopped beating. There he was! He was back: John had come back for me. It was a dream come true.

I walked to him very aware I was keeping my eyes cast down. He'd left me. But what was the actual case? Had he meant to come back? Was he upset I moved on when he didn't return? I guess many a question could be answered in his expression, though I had no desire to see those answers there.

We glowed in a fuzzy haze in the low light. The verandah lights streamed in through the glass porch door, hitting us at an angle I wasn't used to. But it was John, his dark hair seemed just the correct shade, that dark chestnut I loved to run my fingers through.

As I got closer, his scent bade me remember his preferred body wash. Oh, it sent the memories flowing through my mind. John's essence seemed to be pumping through my veins, recapturing deep hidden parts of me as I recaptured the memories to see, live, feel, and share again. John was definitely taller and larger than I remembered. He was more muscular, he'd aged too. John would be a fully grown man now just as I was a woman. It had only been a few years, but they were very important years.

I found my womanly body responding to his mature masculine body. I forced that sensation away wanting to remember things as they once were. I closed with him, finally standing right in front of him. His silhouette made a dramatic figure, solidifying out of the ruling darkness. I put my finger at the back of his jaw, I guess all men have jaws, but I always did that with John. I don't know why. The gesture fit just as it always had. John!

I nodded demurely, acknowledging him as I took him by the sleeve. I guided John to our room. And there I hugged him as he put his arms around me the way he used to. I began to undress him the way I always had. I wanted to get to business, we had much to accomplish tonight.

Something forced me back. Memories and feelings rushed in now. Instead of pushing us ahead, I suddenly clung to John, wrapping my arms around his chest, and pushing my face into him, burrowing away from a world that had forced us apart.

I held him and swayed the way that we always had. There was some readjustment, but soon it was very, very, much as I'd remembered it. He was trying to be the old John for me and I was trying to be the old Kelly for him. It worked: I was back. One of the last really coherent thoughts I had before giving in to overwhelming sensations was this; if I was back, did that mean I was lost? Did giving in completely mean the same?

We stroked and kissed. I turned my head enough to meet his lips while pulling into him more tightly. I reached up, pulling his hair to wrench his mouth down on mine.

John caressed me much as he always had. I noted briefly that he was not as skilled or as passionate as Thomas. I went rigid with the thought of my husband. Feeling me go tense, John took his mouth away from mine, giving me a chance to speak. Instead he heard a tortured whimper. He put his mouth back in place and kissed me as he always had. I forced Thomas out of my mind, never wanting to compare them again. Comparison was disrespectful to both and made me a sort of girl I didn't wish to be.

I told myself to concentrate on John, 'It's John with you, your John; you're in his arms'. I'd practiced this, it was almost self-hypnosis, all geared and timed to this very point in my life. The day was here, now the moment had come. It clicked.

"John! John, John, oh John, you've come back. Thank you, John. Thank you for coming back and agreeing to this. I-It may not end as you want. It didn't end as I wanted before, but we can figure it out together now. You can trust me as you always could. We will figure out how we need to face the future." The whole time we were stroking, groping, kissing, and fondling.

John began to pull on my cardigan and then unbutton it, leaving the bottom buttons fastened. He loved doing this: transforming what I wore as we danced in seductive passion.

As he liked, he began pushing my bottoms off. He liked taking my panties partially off. I don't know why it got him off, but my panties akimbo drove him wild. There were times when I bent over and he pulled them only a third down my thighs, like a partially unwrapping a present, or perhaps it framed my sex somehow. I don't know exactly what enticed him, but this was so John that I was melting. The memories threatened to wash me away as they came flooding back. I had no idea where their current threatened to carry me.

With my bottoms still tight to my upper thighs John slowed my disrobement. We danced as one arm crushed me to him. His lips softly chewing my ears, my neck, then back to my lips, with his tongue dancing in my mouth. He clamped me tight, giving each hand time to rub my ass above my akimbo panties. He had just begun to trace me with his fingertips when he suddenly pulled my panties back up. It was an unexpected move that short circuited the expectant wiring in my brain. This ceased to be a check off list for navigating me to my desired destination. I was ensnared in the moment now.

John kept after me in a way he never had before. Oh, he'd been earnest before, and impassioned, but this was a command performance. He was taking command of my body and taking control of my senses away from me. It was intoxicating, it was hot, and it was driving me to distraction. I was being made love to. I was being prepared for him. I was being made receptive body and mind for his taking of me. He was making me want him! He felt me and kissed me as we slowly danced across the room in constant motion, constant sensation, one huge, gigantic caress. Awash in sensation I was caught in the erotic current of being swept off my feet.

John was omnipresent, feeling me over my underwear, then inside, then my back, my hair, my hips, the small of my back, inside the underwear on my ass, then traveling back to the curve of my hip and waist. Oh my merciful heavens! A man's hand there steering a woman with that hold, evoked in me a notion of a captain at the wheel of his ship. His hands there felt like he controlled me. It did something for me. I was feeling and melting, and he was feeling and melting ... me. Oh, oh ...

I felt hot and dizzy. It was delicious and wonderful, just as it used to feel. No, to be honest, even better. I heard myself moan, "Joooohn."

Then my bottoms were gone. I felt them brush the back of my calves as they fell. Somehow, I managed to step clear of them without any specific motion needed on my part, like they dissolved before they hit the floor. I felt destined to do the same before my back hit the mattress, or wherever he deigned to put me. I was losing control of myself. A little voice in my head told me it was alright, I had time to complete my mission, I just had to connect right now. Just go with the flow and connect with John, be with John. Bring all of John to the surface. That's what was important right now. That's what needed to happen; it's what had always needed to happen but been so tragically missing from what had gone before.

I began to feel it more than think it, "be with John." Be with John, rejoin John, reclaim John, was the mantra pulsing through my mind. There was something wrong with that last one, although at the moment I couldn't grasp anything more about it. John was seducing me. I wanted it. John was succeeding, hell he had succeeded. I was his for the taking, he simply hadn't taken me yet. John had succeeded. John had seduced me. I was his.

I just remember motion, floating really. I knew my panties were already gone but for a moment I had a whispering fantasy. I felt my panties now at my knees again, they hung there clinging to my knees, their softness another caress, then falling like small loving tongues, sliding down my calves binding my ankles. I was in their embrace, one more cord binding me, making me helpless towards further advances. I wanted it all.

Now John had succeeded once more. His controlling molding hands made my top a dress, open past my navel. I think perhaps only the bottom most button still cleaved together the sides of light fabric. John's path was his preference. To reach my mons he could go under the buttoned section of fabric or drive his hand above the button splitting the disparate sides. It was in John's hands how he wished to reach the object of his desire -- and mine.

His hands traveled inside my top. He stroked, felt, cupped, and groped all the parts near the open edges of my top. He would stroke the side of my breast, then use his fingertip lightly touching like a wisp of breath the hardened tip. Then a powerful hand would grasp and kneed my bosom. Oh God, he was more him than he'd ever been! These were his moves, but perfected. This was the top of his game, and I was lost; the sirens had called me in, and I longed to be wrecked on the breakers.

I gasped at everything he did, I felt my passion wet upon my thighs. I felt my lips opening themselves in desperation for him. I possessed no such talent; what was he doing to me? His touch would change in tempo, strength, technique, and placement. His body was on mine constantly, but ever changing, his hands were ... everywhere. His mouth attacked my throat. Oh, I loved this. Oh, I missed this.

John rolled my nipples, tugging them gently as he chewed my earlobe. I realized he had "danced" us down the hallway. We were crossing the threshold into the bedroom. Swinging me around towards the bed, he slid my silky top off my shoulders to pool at my ankles. I stood there before him unveiled and vulnerable, praying for harm. I wanted him to attack. I was absurdly wet in anticipation, my nipples strained to impossibly become harder, so hard they hurt. I shook - shook - in unquenched lust, having given way from mere anticipation to wanton eagerness.

I stayed there shaking like that with no control of my own, only able to wait for the predator to dispatch me. Unable to move my own body I waited for John to control it. I waited until he pushed me backwards, catching me as I fell forever. He lowered my back to the bed.

Silhouetted in the dim light from the bathroom John stood as the conqueror. He placed his strong hands on my upturned knees to force them apart. They didn't take much urging. He could have done it with a feather. He was sending a message, using strong hands to command my legs to part, telling me with motion he owned what they protected. John had never been this assertive, this confident, certainly never this competent. I became a puddle in response.

John towered above me as I lay utterly helpless. He finished disrobing, taking his time like a cat playing with the already captured mouse. Then he took his place crawling between my splayed conquered legs. John rubbed his manhood up and down my femininity making sure I was ready to be taken. A superfluous exercise, as I was drenched to the point of flowing.

I held my breath awaiting my plunder; this mouse was rooting for the cat. John hesitated just slightly signaling my fate, he was ready and prepped, he guided himself forward to begin his assault. John was back and now he was claiming me. I wanted to call his name. I wanted to throw my hips up to claim him back, and my legs around him to hold him there. I wanted to take his claim from him and make it my own! John was mine! I wanted to state that to the world and beyond!

But John reigned supreme, the time of his mastery at hand. He pushed forward and slowly kept boring into me, searing my insides, taking control, making me writhe, and stealing my breath. I was incredulous. He seemed to go on and on. I could barely breathe. It was so incomprehensible I wanted to suffocate! There could be no finer way to go.

Finally, he was seated. I was John's now. John pushed again, then again, his pubic bone ground to mine. He was fully hilted taking all he could of me, and initially more than I had to offer. He slowly bid my body mold to his. I cried out as he reshaped me to himself. He reversed course, then hilted all the way. Now he began a rhythmic retreat and reconquest. Steady assured progression, seizing me as his, over and over, slowly and sensuously, over and over. There was more of him than I remembered, it was a very pleasant surprise as he made my body yield. It was so deliciously different, despite his hilting himself in the manner he always had.

He ground, and pulsed, and pumped, and undulated, never moving exactly the same way, showing more stamina than his norm. He'd tried this in the past but had never perfected it to this level. Incredibly, already at overload, I was feeling more and more. I was lost, I was falling. I was his.

I'd wanted this so badly. Though I never expected the sensation to be so overwhelming. Years of want and need were pouring though my tissues, coursing through my veins. Spontaneously we writhed, rolled, and flowed from one position to the next. We flowed as one from the bed to the floor and across the room. He picked me up and pinned me to the wall, then still coupled carried me back to the bed. Occasionally he would pull out repositioning me as he deigned, atop him or furniture, after a while I couldn't discern either, and cared less.

This was more intense, more emotional, more everything that I'd anticipated. I was awash, it was so much more than I hoped. Frankly, this was beyond what I needed, and far more than I wanted. It was beautiful. Emotions weren't just allowed to escape, they were being forced from me, they were being pulled from me!

Before I could form coherent words, I was singing his platitudes. He'd come back to me! Soon I spoke of our intimacies past, confirming how I felt about him as I sang his praises through the night. Many were mere grunts and moans, the sort of testimonial men dream of.

Later, far beyond sated and halfway to the morning I begged him, "Don't go. Don't go like this. Don't leave me. Don't build me a world then take it from me, leaving me floating in the ether, incapable of motion or escape, unable to crawl away or out. Don't leave me again, not like before."

I clung to him as if the fabric of life itself was being torn. I wept piteously. I refused to let him go, until at long last I composed myself.

Then knowing the way it had to be, I practically sang to him in a tiny broken voice, "I know you can't stay. So, stay for as long as you can, let me sleep in your arms."

An undetermined time later, tearfully and painfully, I re-found my true current self. I felt like I was betraying both John and myself. I guess I truly did reach deep and found not just John from my past but my past self too. For parts of the night, I truly was myself from my past, myself from a world that no longer existed.

I gave voice to my newer current self, breaking my past heart as I did, "John, I need you to do something for me. If you ever loved me I need you to do this. John, let me sleep in your arms, but don't let me wake in them - be gone. Let me wake in a world without you. I see it coming this time, and it's not the dark abyss I faced before. Now life has become warm, light, and loving; it's love like I never knew. John, I don't know if you provided that for me or if happened despite you, but I can embrace it now, and will - totally."

John was silent, but I knew he understood. He held me firmly although not the crushing death grip of a man who never intended to let go. I felt the part of me that wanted him to crush me in just that way, let go of me as well, as I drifted off to sleep wrapped in John's dreams.

* * * * * *

We awoke somewhere in the night. I'd been crying in my sleep. Only my exhaustion kept me from being overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions I felt. I was still aroused though I was sore and by all rights should have been finished. I accidentally awakened my partner as I stirred.

I whispered, "John?" I saw his dark hair and his hand fell to my breast as it often had, it was so familiar. Dear Lord, scant few years ago I went to sleep one night knowing John was gone. Now I'd awakened to find myself held in his arms.

"John! John, oh God, I thought I'd lost you. Oh John, it can't be!" Then as I fully awoke, I listened to those wise words. I also remembered it must not be. I should belong to another man.

He could feel the difference in me. He was quite still. Normally John took the lead, but he was clearly allowing me to guide us. I had a mission now. I put my hands on the sides of his face. In the almost total darkness, I looked at him in earnest, he knew something had changed.

I pushed myself along his body to put him in my mouth, simply enjoying the realness of him. It was quite sensuous, my love's manhood, though not hard, simply resting in my mouth as I worshiped and suckled him. I'd resuscitated John in so many ways tonight, almost impossibly I did so again. I crawled over him and impaled myself with a deep gurgling groan. After mounting him I took him wildly with complete abandon.

We finished our raw couplings of lust and passion with a slow sensual joining. Our motions were amateurish compared to my couplings with Thomas, but I didn't want to throw that in John's face. Even then being with John to the utmost degree I felt a sense of awe, and truth, and wonderful anticipation of the future. My future was Thomas.

That was the point John and I never reached. We were always geared for "someday." When that day arrived, we didn't know how to live it. We were anticipators not procurers. We swam in potential but floundered in actual. We were perfect together like kids when there's only the existing moment, and designing a future is simply a game to be played in the here-and-now.

Still, it was wonderful being with him again. Touching him, feeling him. Just being with John, once my one true and forever love.

We were still bodily coupled. I was atop his young lithe body. I was grinding. It had gone on and on, but it was time. I slowed my pace to a slow sensuous rocking. This way I would cradle him, protecting him like a child, as I destroyed him. I loved John. I had to be as caring, gentle, and yes, loving with him as honesty would still allow. I knew this coupling would allow that for John but only at a huge sacrifice for the other man I held dear. For all three of us, I had to do the worst thing I had ever done, as well as I could possibly do it.

"John, my love, I have to hurt you now. I'm sorry, but you moved on. We can't be together. You know that. Because I love you, I must be honest with you. I found someone, a man, and he's -- he's given me so much of himself. More than you gave, much more really, more than you had the capacity to give. I'm glad you gave so much of yourself and life to me. I will always cherish your gift and our time together: it will always be part of me and special to me. I promise!

"But he's a man and we were kids. Though our age was fine, emotionally we were still kids. We hadn't grown as we should have. You fought it, you know it's the truth. John, my other love was a full-grown adult man when I met him. Emotionally even more mature than that, more than most men frankly. I believe more than most adults. He seems to be what's called "an old soul".

"I-I asked him to let me see you again, like this. He allowed me to communicate with you sensually and spiritually, because I know you can hear me and feel this. Can you imagine how you would have reacted in his place? That difference is what I'm trying to communicate to you. I'm sorry, but you had to know it was coming."

My hands stroked John's face. "I pick him John, I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. If you hadn't left, I wouldn't have met Thomas. If you hadn't left, I would never have been responsive to him or anyone else. I would've remained true to you. I'm not saying it's your fault, not at all, your absence changed me. Quite a bit of me left too trying to follow you. In this way that girl who was yours, passes to you. And the woman who inherited everything that didn't chase after you is going with him. Please let me feel that you understand and approve.

"I was forced to accept your departure, now you need to do this for me. It's cruel, but beyond our control. So please I'm - I'm going to have you one last time John, then sleep. If you're okay with this, then take what you want of that girl, she is yours. Go with her now, don't wait until I die to collect her soul. Don't leave me with her soul, or whatever of her I still have. It was natural and right for her to be with you then, and for her to be with you now. But it's natural and right for the woman I am now to be with Thomas - forever.

"John, in my own way I'll always be true to you, as you will be to me. But I've grown and become more than I was, in many ways I'm a different person. Your ... your death made me do that! The gal who was part of you, part of us, couldn't live without you, but couldn't find a way to die to be with you either. I had to change, to grow, and what I am now is his. It's my nature to be true. So please understand: no excuses John, I want him. I need him. He's ... my choice.

"If you're okay with that you need to go away gently while I sleep. I-I need to wake up all his. He's suffered for me in ways you never did. John, I love you, but he's sacrificed in ways you never could. You would have left me if I asked of you what I asked of him. Honestly John, let yourself feel it and know it, you wouldn't be as happy living with the woman I'm trying to be now. Take what was yours and be happy but leave the rest of me to my future."

I suddenly felt warm. It was a melancholy feeling, but it was still love. Perhaps it was my past-self leaving my present-self. Perhaps it was the end of my indecision but also my final leaving of John. I felt or intuited, or however it should be described, that John was joyous to have what he truly needed. And finally, I had what was right, what I needed, and what I wanted most of all.

Maybe it was supernatural. Perhaps I was really in touch with John. Perhaps I'd just lived with the sorrow and misapprehension so long I'd personified it. Perhaps it was the last raving of a half mad mind finally giving way to a spirit that had miraculously been rejuvenated. But it wasn't imaginary; I felt what I felt.

"I-I believe I can feel your acceptance and thanks. Take care of that sweet little girl John, she loves you very much! Goodbye my love."

I was crying hard now, my thrusts deepened, and I ground harder and harder, climbing higher and higher, giving him the best send-off I could. Almost delirious, the best I could do now was the full-blown passion of a woman, not just the whole-hearted faithfulness of a young girl. This was not something I'd learned with John: this was something I discovered with Thomas. As I reached an absolute frenzy, I called out the words that my husband beneath me heard, "I love you, Thomas. I love you so much!" With the cry I collapsed, unaware of what I'd revealed.

End of Part Two