"Look Into My Soul" A short-short broken promise story

Her pursed lips, frozen in the monkey grin of her orgasm, let forth a deep, almost menacing growl of bliss.  He felt her pudendum shiver against his lips as the waves passed through her and to him like intimate radio waves.  He withdrew his tongue from her and waited a moment to be sure.  Yes.

There was no question of what she wanted now.  Not his tongue down there, but she was ready now for the root of him.  She needed him inside. If he made her wait she would demand it, which he loved to hear. 

He lifted up and gently slid up the length of her body, his face gleaming with vaginal juices, and settled over her.  He felt her shift her belly, adjust her position and open to him.  Her face was level with his.

 She raised her feet, lifting them into the air.  He sat up, place her feet across his shoulders and felt the wave of aggressive male desire sweep over him.  He reached for a pillow and slipped it under her ass.  But he would not look at her face.

"Look at me," she whispered.

He closed his eyes and kissed her face.

"No, look at me," she whispered.  "I want you to look into my eyes when you come into me."

He looked at her forehead.

"My eyes," she said, the faintest irritation.  "I want all of you."

He had been avoiding that up until now, because the sight of her face, especially when she relaxed was disturbing.  It was after all, his own face.

The tip of his cock tapped accidentally at her wetness and slipped straight in without guidance from his hand or hers. 

"You're shy," she said.  "I want you to look into my eyes when you come. That's when you're truly naked, when you lose control.  I want to look into your eyes and you lose control.  Come on."

She was not his sister, but in a way she might as well have been.  Everything from the chin down was not his, but from the chin up, she could have been his clone.  Was that the reason they were always doing this? As often as they met, she was the one who would bring him to the bed, he had to do so little to have her and feast on her.  Maybe it was like that for her too.

"Promise me, you'll look into my eyes when you come.  From now on."

"Oh baby," he sighed as he began to move.

"Promise."

"Oh fuck, you're good to me."

"Promise."

"Yeah."

"Say it."

"Oh Jesus, let me do this.  I gotta fuck so bad. I need you right now.  It's just good."

"Promise!"

"Yeah!  I do!"

He looked into her eyes as his hips pressed into her and out and then in, then out, harder each time until the bed squealed with his thrusts.  She raised her arms above her head like a bird taking to the air, lifting her breasts, making the nipples pop out.  He looked at her nipples, kept looking at them as the minutes passed and the bed squealed louder in a steady bolero.  Her eyes, they were half open.  Enjoying him.  Feeling the moment.  Having captured him inside her.  He was suddenly fascinated by the sway of her breasts as though they were not a part of her as he rocked urgently against her.  He felt his eyes close as the wave in his loins began to rise, felt it began to spill forward.

He tried to keep his eyes open, to look in her face.  It spooked him.  It was his face.  Her face, if he looked into her eyes he was sure he would go soft. 

He felt the huge thrill breaking the surface and the pumping in his loins as he closed his eyes, puffing like a runner.  There!

"Lacuna!" he shouted and felt himself pop and foam and fill her, deep and deep.

He lay above her, letting it pour into her like a drum beat as he struggled to keep from crying.  He tried to lower himself down and then suddenly felt her hands on him, her fingers digging into his biceps, rolling him off her belly and over onto his side.

"You didn't do it!"

"Yeah," he said, feeling the room spin.  He looked up at the white ceiling fan slowly turning.  "I did. You made me come good.  Really good."

"No!" she snapped.  "You promised to look into my eyes when you came, to let me see into your soul, and you didn't, you closed your eyes."

"Next time," he said.

"I don't know if there'll be a next time.  And who the hell is Lacuna?"

"Who?"

"You said Lacuna.  Who's she?  Who were you thinking about?"

"Oh, don't spoil it, honey.  We both feel so good right now.  Just let it alone."

"Who's Lacuna?"

"I don't know."

"You can't fuck me anymore.  Not if you're not here, not if your mind is somewhere else thinking about Lacuna.  You need to learn to meditate or something."

"I don;t know any Lacuna."

"That's why you don't look in my eyes.  You're guilty.  You're fucking somebody named Lacuna."

"I swear to baby Jesus I'm not."

"Then who's Lacuna?"

"I don't know.  Maybe it's like Citizen Kane.  Maybe it's a sled I used to have when I was a little kid, how should I know?  Please, please don't mess this thing up for me.  You made me happy, okay?  You made big old Mr Happy down there happy, okay?  Don't mess this up.  We're doing so good."

"I want to look into your soul.  You're like a locked closet.  I want in.  I want all of it."

"I know," he said.  "But you're never going to."

"Never what?"

"You're never going to have all of it.  That I can promise."