Recursion A.1.

RECURSION

A.1.

Josie pulls Oliver through the door into their apartment. Their first one, the studio in that rickety old building in the bad part of town. Josie gasps, first to realize they’re young again, twenty-three or thereabouts, flush with all the youth time had stolen from them. She feels light on her feet, graceful and cat-like, a slender girl with long honey blonde hair, tits and belly untouched by age and pregnancy. Josie laughs and twirls, her white halter dress flaring around her slim legs, her black stilettos tapping the warped hardwood. Oliver follows in her wake, lean and ropey from rowing, messy head of carroty orange hair, chin square and dimpled, wearing old jeans and a blue Oxford button down.  Neither of them understand what’s happening, but they’re both a little drunk, maybe a little high, back from some party, perhaps with some of Oliver’s law school friends or more likely Josie’s fellow dancers, or maybe both, since the two worlds have collided romantically. 

Oliver lifts Josie off her feet and she shrieks a little, kicks legs deerlike, wraps her thighs around his ribs, grabs his head, kisses him hungrily. Their mouths taste like wine, and Josie smells of floral perfume and faintly of canabis smoke. Oliver wrestles her to the side, bumps her against the wall, presses his weight onto her, kisses her neck, bites and sucks, a naughty hickey in the making. Josie tips her head back and gasps, face caught between a grimace of pleasure and a cheeky grin, “You scoundrel,” she chides. 

Oliver growls and bites her collarbone, gets his hands under Josie’s dress, squeezes a pert little athletic ass. She squirms in his hands, rakes her fingers through his thick hair, her heart is racing and her nipples ache to be touched, to be teased. “Bed,” she suggests. 

“No,” he grunts, pinning her harder to the wall with his body. He paws at her thong panties, gets nowhere, grabs hold, and with a sudden sharp tug, rips them off, sundered. “Hey!” She laughs.

“Sorry,” A blush.

“Price of business,” Josie gasps, pulling free the knot of her halter, letting her firm breasts fall free, ripe handfuls untouched by age. 

Josie is nearly naked now, dress a linen sash around her waist, all her best features on display. She’s still smashed against the wall, caught between man and architecture, her pussy is hot and wet, and she tries to grind it against Oliver. She wraps her hands around his beck, clenches him tighter with her bare thighs, like he’s a beast she intends to ride. “Pants, hurry.”

Oliver yanks at his belt, his fly, his briefs, eager to get his achingly hard cock free. Josie kisses him, passionately, playfully, frenchly, trying to slow him down, a distraction of lips, upper and lower, as she tries to kiss his busy hands with her cunt too. Oliver perseveres through the onslaught of mouth and tongue and pussy and breasts and gets his pants down around his ankles, his erect cock painfully engorged, pulsing with his predatory heart. Josie makes a happy primordial noise, not quite a groan, and lowers her bodyweight onto Oliver’s penis, working her hips, baptizing his glans, until eyes and lips clenched, there is carnal alignment, and a sudden double intake of air, breathless moment, as cock parts labia, invades boiling cunt, stretches and parts, forces and welcomes, slippery heat, two bodies locked together as one. 

“Uh,” Oliver says, holding their combined weight on his hips, his legs, his cock a fulcrum locking them together. 

“Oh,” agrees Josie, dangling, gravity working to fill her deeper, to crush the hot bead of her clitoris into him.

They move against each other, collaborate, Josie lifting her arms, her thighs, doing a kind of sexual calisthenics, up and down, perfect form, muscles burning, Oliver thrusting up, legs dipping and lifting, hands clutching her ass, shoulders jerking, performing feats of strength. Faster and harder they work, bodies two opposing forces striving towards a common goal. Josie tips her head back, laughs in delight, sweat tickling down her back. Oliver grunts, tries to take a half step back for leverage, is hobbled by his ankled pants, trips, falls backward with a whoop. Josie shrieks, rides him down, rides cock, all the way to the floor, catches herself, looms over him, in control. “Fuck,” he grunts and she grins, yanks his head up to kiss and suckle on her tits, tease her aching nipples, as she continues to thrust and grind against him, to bounce on his cock, panting and gasping, faster and faster and faster, carrying them both away. Suddenly, she bucks, rakes fingers down his chest, arches her back, muscles tight, thighs squeezing, and makes a guttural noise like her soul is clenching as she orgasms. Oliver clutches her collapsing body, thrusts up against her once, twice, four times, and grunts from his ankles, his body enveloping Josie, instinctually trying to drive deeper into her, into her core, as his cock pulses and erupts within her….

Boneless and sated they fall asleep>>>