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Genesis 3:

The Fall from Paradise

Playing Erotic Games with the Serpent of Eden

JAGUAR VEX



Other than quoted bible verses, this work is not about religion, nor is this a historical account on what happen in the proverbial Paradise. This is a modern romance, an erotic story.

Mike played with fire, and he likes the warmth and the beautiful woman accompanying the package. She is a go-getter, sensuous and wants to explore the future with him. It is the perfect situation for both if only Mike has no wife waiting at home.

Now, the fire is consuming everything he got, and he is paying the price.

This is a story of Mike’s path to indiscretion, with lots of sex along the way.





























Copyright © 2017 jaguar vex

https://jaguarvex.com

ISBN: 9781370249374

All rights reserved.

Thank you for buying an authorized copy of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning or distributing any part of it in any form without permission.

All persons portrayed in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, natural and/or juridical, living or otherwise, or actual events is purely coincidental.

For comments and suggestions, please email

jaguarvex@gmail.com



Chapter ONE

Now the serpent was craftier than any of the wild animals the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?”



“Sir, you should immediately take this offer. This property will be out of the list in no time” she said as she is showing me the same unit for the millionth time.

Morella is one of the most hardworking real estate consultant I have met. She is also the best, bagging the real estate award three years in a row --- in both sales figures and customer satisfaction. That is probably the same reason why I was convinced to be one of her “esteemed” clients.

“Are you sure we will be able to close this with the seller?” I asked. I was worried because if this is a hot property, then there are numerous offers. “I do not think we can compete with other buyers”.

“Let me do the negotiating” she winked.

I do not have much, just a stable job and minimal savings I have made for the purchase of this real property. I have other savings for health and retirement, and I intend to stick to their allotment. I cannot put more than what I have allocated, because it might hurt my finances in the uncertain future.

“Just make sure you have the earnest money and the bank approval for the loan, and I will make sure you have the property in two months” her tone is assuring. It gives me more confidence to purchase

“And what will you do to convince the seller to sell the property to me? I teased her, which she likes.

“Well, for starters” she explains, moving her hands demonstrating, “I will unzip his pants, like this” her fingers playing with the button of my corporate pants before the same fingers make their way to push the zipper down. Her fingernails are properly manicured, long nails with dark red paint serviced by one of those posh salons in town.

Her pinkish fingers started to roam and explore my exposed underwear. The fingernails with the golden tips looks great on my whites, I can see how she gives little massages and soft squeezes on the muscle underneath. I responded by telling her I am beginning to get hard, and her smile is all I want to see that my efforts are appreciated.

“I can also look into what is sleeping inside the underwear of the seller, like this” and she slips her fingers inside causing a small jolt as she hits one f the sensitive parts of my body. She knows how to play with the muscle alright, not only because this is not the first time that we are holding this “meeting” but because she learns from her clients, and she has lots.

“Maybe the seller will ask for you to expose the muscle” I giggled. She did. I am semi erect now, and I can see how she wonders how the once flaccid body part is now in full attention.

“Or maybe he will ask me to kiss like this and like this” giving little smacks that excites me further. There is something erotic about the disparity of her soft lips to my hard member. I closed my eyes to feel her kisses, now lingering longer.

I whimper when I felt her tongue tracing the veins of the shaft, leaving a moist feeling of her saliva. He wetness of her lips is both soft and fragrant. Her breath makes kissing and tongue-playing sexier--- the senses of sight, taste, smell and touch bringing small shots of electricity to the sensitivity of the body parts.

“You taste nice” she said. She has no reservations, giving me sensual comments as she plays with my body.

“All you have to do is ask, Baby” I commented, still closed eyes.

I moaned when I felt the warmth and wetness of his lips, hugging my manhood. Her teeth carefully hidden to not give any uncomfortable sensation to what I am feeling right now. The subtle movements of her lips, assisted by small flickers of her tongue is enough to make me feel numb due to pleasure.

I tried to reach for her breasts, but she said she still have meeting after our tryst. She instead put my hands to my own chest and help me find two tips of my own, and with her fingers guide me to fondle and pinch the dark pink tip.

She is not forgetting her oral role, testing how deep she can do, claiming me inside her little by little, while I start to see white lights, smiling. As soon as she determines her ability to measure the deepness vis-à-vis my length, she started to her cavernous effort to go deep.

Her head started to bob, up and down, in a smooth motion. She knows that she can claim me whole, because or her practice and familiarity with my nakedness. With my fingers playing with myself and her mouth driving the craziness, I feel something building inside of me. It is as if every tickling sensation drops to my release bucket, and soon I must explode.

“I am close Baby” I warned her. While part of the mystery is whether she will spit or swallow, she has every right to know, for her to prepare anything left on her sleeves.

She gave me a nod, but she never failed with the rhythmic movement of her head. She is moving faster, and faster and faster, until I cannot hold it anymore.

I released inside of her.

She continues to keep me inside of her mouth while I squirt the sticky evidence of this sensual ritual. I know that as I squirt inside of her, my manhood throbs bigger.

I feel wasted after the climax. I cannot even move my hands, now resting on my nipples. My entire body is sensitive, and any touch turns to ticklishness. I hope she will not touch my manhood anymore, because my body is automatic in responding to any post-release stimulus.

She kissed me, and I kissed back, only to taste an awkward bittersweet taste, which she kept inside her mouth and spills to me with a kiss. Even if surprised, I manage to receive my share of stickiness swallowed the same. I saw her smile and swallowed my semen as well.

Immediately, she reaches for the liquid gargle inside her bag and take a bottlecap amount, gargle for half a minute and step inside the bathroom to spit it out on the lavatory.

I am already dressed when she steps out of the bathroom. Her hair is done, her clothes are neat and tidy, and she smells Chanel No. 5, her favorite scent.

“I will wait for your call when you have the money and the bank approval” she said. She reverts to the professional personality, the one she had when she greeted me at the lobby where this unit is located.

“That long?” I asked. “Not even earlier?” I joked. Jokes are half-meant, and she knows it.

“Earlier if you will put your retirement savings to augment your down payment” she answered. She knows I have money for retirement, and that will help a lot to provide the best offer to the seller.

“I will think about it” I said. No promises.

“You can also take your wife’s savings to help you with the purchase” she suggested. It is a long-shot, but definitely a possibility.

“That is off-limits” I responded. “I want her to have money in the event we continue with this relationship”. She is my wife for a decade now, and worse scenario is that I will leave her with enough money for her and her future.

“Well, I do not want to marry you without this unit” she said. She knows how to push her way to winning a negotiation. I will do my best to have this property, and start our future here.

“Why do you assume that the seller is male?” I asked when we stepped out of the building.

“I do not assume” she said. “If she is female, I will do the same way of convincing”.





Chapter TWO

The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden,  but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.’”



“You are quiet, are you okay?” she said. My wife has good instinct, but remains too innocent to see the entire picture. She can see that the walls have cracks, but not to the detail that the house is about to collapse.

Or is she feigning ignorance?

“Work stuffs Heidi.” I lied. “I need to be in Atlanta this weekend for a contract signing”.

“You should be happy with anticipation” she commented. “You look like you are troubled instead of excited”.

“I don’t now Hon” reach for her side of the bed to touch her. “I am planning to invest on a real property and I am having reservations”.

“If it is investment, then it is for the future” her approach to things is simple. Her simplicity is what I fell in love with ten years ago.

“Do you want to have sex?” she offered. “It will relax and clear your head for a while” she smiled.

“I am tired” I sighed.

“Oh…” she continues reading the fashion magazine she requested me to subscribe to. She likes looking at beautiful things, but practical enough not to be lured by the call of mall sales.

“But not tired enough to pleasure you” I said. I crawled to her, and she is like a little girl about to be tickled. She is giggling.

She lifts the comforter that covers the lower part of our body. This is a cold night, but her desire will fuel the heat for us both, beginning with her shredding the floral nightgown that she purchased years ago. She keeps things that she finds comfortable with, and she will not dispose of anything with value, or memory.

Like our marriage.

I touch her, between the legs. She closed her eyes and feel my fingers going over her soon to be exposed body part. The underwear she is wearing feels good to the touch, smooth to allow the trace of her opening, it is thin enough to feel the hair nestled there.

My fingers are hornier than my mind, moving to feel the outline of her opening. She is all-giving --- she spread her legs to give me full control and gives little moans to make my fingers overly excited. When my middle finger hit the spot, and tried to push its way despite the remaining clothing, she whimpers.

Her head moves from one side to another, and then back again. She is starting to feel the ecstatic taste of what I am giving her. Her moans become pleas ---take off her panties for me to end the teasing, and begin the actual finger-play.

But I want her to plead, she needs to suffer.

My other hand knows how to do it, beginning to explore the smoothness of her breasts, looking for that particular part that can cause fountains to flow, squirt and ooze. That body part on the tip of her breast can send shots of electric currents from the toes to the tip of her hair. That pinkish piece of glory that make babies to boys, and boys to men.

She arched her back when I touch it. Her head is moving fast from one side to another now. Her whimpers are like cries of helplessness.

I am just beginning.

Her exposed breasts coupled with my fingers playing down there is a sensual sight, making me feel pleasurable sensations. With these on my view, I am hard. I am lying on my stomach, so she cannot see my salute, but the patterns on the bedsheet is touching my sensitive muscle. The pleasure is more than enough.

Both my hands are busy, one stroking the panty’s outline of her opening, the other pinching the tip of her breast. This leaves me without any choice but to use my lips on the other available breast. It is just there--- pink and waiting for the warmth and wetness of my mouth.

I wet my lips before the skins touch. She gives a yelp, and I do not think it is a conscious effort on her part. She is now biting her lower lip, balancing the discomfort of simultaneous pleasure and the sensation brought about by my body parts.

“Please Mike” she pleads.

I totally understand her. The bedroom creates a language for husband and wife and incorporates sounds and short-cut words to the linguistic altogether. She wants me to conclude the teasing and give her the real thing. Her undergarments are moist to the touch now, which means I must go to the second phase.

Using the same fingers, I pulled her panties down. She helped to pull it down instantly, as if waiting for the go signal for her hands to toss them to the chair. She is totally naked now, and that means it is a hundred percent skin-to-skin play. She opened her legs again, but looks at me with the expression of asking for gentleness to what I am about to do to her.

My middle finger began playing with her unshaven hair down there, making curling motions, touching the skin underneath the bush. It tickles her. She holds my hand and stop me when I make the finger circles and I tease her more by making faster motions.

She released my hand when my mouth claims the tip of her breast. Her pinkish pearl is bland to the taste but the pleasure it brings creates sweetness and other palate. I began licking, and then biting. She squeals and yelled “stop” several times, but the bedroom language changes meaning of original pleas.

When she realizes that her request will not help her, she put her hands on her head and started to clutch the pillow. Her body, from shoulders down surrenders to me and my tongue and fingers, but her face, head and hands are trying to fight my sensual efforts.

My fingers are still playing, pinching and massaging, and the middle finger has now entered her. Her legs fold, and were crossed, because there is something tickling her delicate parts from inside.

“Please Mike…” her request-plea again. Her plea is high-pitched, coming from her half-conscious mind caused by the delirium of pleasure. My middle finger is wet now, her opening has provided moisture to the dry skin of my fingers, removing the feeling of roughness.

But I have more than a finger.

I want to continue teasing her until she grabs my head and push it downward. I followed her request. She is getting tired now, and my fingers are beginning to stiffen. We cannot stay all night doing this unlike the first years of our marriage. Age claims something physiologically, and there are days we rather catch sleep than fool around.

I used my tongue to explore her, making my way to the bush she makes sure is always fragrant, leading to the waiting flesh. When I reach my intended destination, she opened herself to me. The lights are dimmed but I can see the shiny, red-pinkish part below and beside her unshaven hair.

I used both index finger to touch the outer lining of her opening. It is like feeling the side of the cave and asking permission to enter. Express consent is not necessary. Her moans are good as permission. I then tried to enter using both fingers, feeling the inviting warmth.

And I did push inside her, not by my fingers but my hardened tongue. I can feel her wetness opposed to my own, with that familiar scent that is exclusively hers. The same scent that makes men deliriously wild when licking and tasting. But she is more delirious with the sensation. She is moving her hips whenever my tongue thrusts.

It becomes instinct of husbands to know when the wife is reaching their limit. But I have one more trick on my sleeve. I just shaved this morning which means my moustache now feels like sandpaper. Her opening is overly sensitive now, and brushing her with my facial hair is ignominy. True enough, she calls the Creator when I started the “brushing”.

She is trying to look at me now, like attempting crunches. But every time her back reaches a certain height, I brush my upper lips to her opening, and she drops her weight to the bed again, squealing.

“Oh God…oh God…” she prays, or rather, she pants. I know that she will produce a mess soon, the triumph for the husband. Maybe that is the origin of the “Big O” because it always begins with “oh God”.

I brought her. She reached the intended sensation, evidenced by the liquified mess. If I did not have my property visit this afternoon with Morella, I will claim the right of mutual pleasure. But I do not want to raise suspicion if my produce is less than her expectation. I will just self-help before shower tomorrow morning.

“Are you sure you do not want to?” she asked. “Before I take a quick shower?”

“I am good. Are you okay?” I asked back.

“Happy. Very happy” she is smiling. She is like hopping her way to the bathroom, naked and drenched.

God, why did I allow myself to meet Morella?



Chapter THREE

4 “You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman.  “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”



“Take it” Heidi said. “Take all of it.” she insisted. She withdrew her savings, leaving just the amount for her retirement, and giving to me for the property investment.

“Let us treat this as a loan” I accepted the offer because Morella is pushing me for the money. “I will pay you as soon as I can”.

“I don’t understand” her eyebrows are meeting. “If that will become our property, why do you need to pay me back?”

Because I will leave you and take the house with me.

“I just don’t want you thinking I am leaping to this risky deal without any assurance” I lied. I am beginning to be a chronic liar when I met Morella.

“It is ours, part of our property” she kisses me before proceeding to the door. “I can save again, do not worry” she said before stepping out of the house.

I thought it will be another afternoon delight scheduled with Morella. I can feel her now --- lips locked to my manhood. Her luscious lips working her way to satisfy my desire, her fingers scratching the balls underneath. Her mouth is warm and soft, a total opposite to my hardness. She also knows how to multitask --- using her lips, tongue and fingers.

But I had a meeting out of time with the boys instead. I hate to rain check on her especially if it is a tryst, but she was graceful enough to Understand my working conditions.

“I promise to perform twice the next time” she teased on my messenger.

“I am sorry on the rain check. I will just rain on you next time” with a winking emoji.

She responded with lots of emojis --- banana, drops, a surprise face with mouth open. It took me awhile to understand. And I laughed when I figure it out.

The meetings with the business boys is also fun. They are young and eager to climb the corporate ladder and they are so harsh to their competitors. They know where to find the dirt of those who wanted them out, or demoted and use these information to their progressive advantage.

But of course, boys’ night out means strip clubs and girls-for-hire.

An hour after the hotel dinner, we are out to cross the street and “window shop”. The trip is paid, with allowance, and so we can choose a high-end whorehouse to spend the last night on. We can just term the receipt as “representation” and “entertainment” expense. The closure of a contract at the end of the meeting means we will not be questioned.

Three of my companions easily picked girls. The team lead and the oldest of the three got two. Two girls. He has the office reputation to be lover of younger girls and it is with this night-out that I affirmed his “preferences”.

I chose a curvy brunette, just like Morella, and she immediately showed her intention to join me at my hotel room after the drinks and show. I just nodded, but have no intention of bringing a stranger on my room.

So, I thought.

It is the third performance when two of my companions call it a night with their girls with them. Our team lead is almost done, with hands inside his open pants and his unbuttoned shirt. The girls take advantage of the darkness to caress and grope him, and I think he is getting more by doing the same to them.

The woman on the stage is now a Mistress. She wears a leather brazier, a leather skirt that exposes half of her red underwear, fishnet stocking and knee-length boots. She has a whip as her props and a nipple clamp on the other hand.

She exposes herself during the show, her movement going down the floor allows men to look at her see through red panties. She prolongs her leg openings so that customers can see the outline of her opening. In fact, in one of her movements, she mimics a woman pleasuring herself, tracing her private part with a diagonal movement. The audience clapped when her fingers move back and forth.

The next movement is choosing an audience to place on her the clamps. Her breasts escape its leather support now, showing to everyone how luscious and mouth-watery they are. I think it is fake, with silicones injected to it, but hey, as long as I cannot taste the silicone, she can do whatever she wants to enlarge them.

The person chosen is almost drunk, because he is still able to go up the stage without assistance, but I can see he is blushing because of alcohol. She gave him the clamps and he dance with joy, with a picture in his mind how the assignment given to him will be done.

He whispers to her something, and she nods. The man upon receiving affirmation looks at the audience and winks. He has control of the woman’s bosom now, and he wants to play with it, before putting the metallic implement. His hands begin to touch, caress and massage the deliciously-looking lumps while the woman close her eyes and bites her low lip. It makes the audience horny, and one of the men was escorted outside because he exposed his member and play with it, in violation of the establishment’s policy.

I promised not to take her out, but with all these sights and show offerings, we went straight to my room and I claim her, thrice.

She never complains, especially when I handed to her a generous tip, giving me hr number so that I can call her the next time we visit the same hotel. I politely accepts, or as far as my recollection is concerned, but there is no way I can remember everything the day after. Even her number. Or her name.

I mounted her, but she said she wants me to experience her “expertise” --- she is on top doing the “helicopter”. Her movements are like dance, not simple gyrating of the hips. Her hands are playing with her hair while doing the hip movement, and I almost pass out because of delirium,

She continues to gyrate, her hips doing a circular motion while tightening her grip to the muscle inside her. It is about grace, body support and muscle control, and she successfully allow me to experience the sensation it brings. I know that I shouted many times, calling the Creator’s name, because she keeps on edging me but will not allow me to release.

If I spill inside of her, I cannot remember. Suffice it to say that the headache I have the next morning is all worth it, and I am thankful that I did not take the early morning bus trip, as opposed to my colleagues who are in a rush to go home to their family --- the traces of indiscretion already cleaned by the early morning shower.

My hostess is not in bed when I wake up the next morning. She is experienced, she knows the drill. Unless requested by the customer, the presence is required until the last release. Otherwise, she will experience the walk of shame like it is college again. Her clothing last night is not appropriate for hotel settings, and the judgmental eyes from guests will put one to shame.

“Whose number is this Hon?” asked Heidi. “And why is there lipstick on the card?

“It is one of the activities in the workshop. Dear”, again, with my lies. “There is this random girl in the event giving away cards after she kisses them” I explained. “Maybe it is for a lipstick marketing and promotion”.

“It is effective alright” she smiled. No trace of doubt or questions of dishonesty on her tone.

Little did I know that there is more to my bag than a stupid, lipstick-smudged card. She left her panties, sticky to the touch. My underwear is also there, intertwined with her undergarments, gluey. I bet if my wife is suspicious enough and she smells them, they have similar scents.

I do smell them. And I am getting hard again.



Chapter FOUR

6 When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. 



She is totally naked now, unlike the day before where she needs her clothes intact because of another meeting. I mounted her in the kitchen sink where a good amount of marble and travertine is placed by the owner in their attempt to redecorate the unit for an easy sale. She protests at first, complaining that it might be used for cooking the previous days, and would not want her behind to be all sticky.

Let us see if you will not be sticky later.

Our clothes are all over the unit, pants on the receiving area because I cannot wait to enter her, the left show is three steps from the right pair. Her dress is on the sofa, where she teases me in a little dance of burlesque, taking it off to cause my underwear to tighten.

She loves the muscle underneath the cloth that covers it. For her, the size is perfect. It is not long to cause damage to her internal organs, and not so big to destroy her vaginal canal. But she loves it more how I use it to pleasure her. The way I touch her skin with it while we are cuddling on the sofa, my attempt to show it to her with an unzipped pants on a meeting at the conference room and my courage to give it to her to play around while we are on a bus trip to the next city.

“Looks like this is deprived of some spanking” she teased. She is correct. Lately, I prioritize rest and sleep than giving my wife some coital exercises. They are all intended, because the pleasure with Morella is different from my wife. Or her, everything is new and adventurous, unlike the scheduled and predictable bed routine my wife is asking me to do, or what she does herself.

“I am saving all of it for you” I said. I am smiling, giving her my debonair look.

“Hmmmm” she faked thinking. “If that is the case, then I should not allow anything be put to waste” she winked. “Every. Last. Drop.” She is so sexy when she mouths the words. Or maybe because she is now pulls my briefs down to expose my waiting manhood.

I am already hard, because she pushed her hips to mine while we are dancing on the living room. This is a good-sized property because it could fit two giant sofas from the staging company to show the prospective buyer how huge the area is. The old sofas are gone and cannot be salvaged, not because the spring is showing but because almost all property viewing ended up on a stain added to the sofa’s cover.

There is an unwritten rule that agents should not use the staged place for tryst with possible customers. One, it is unprofessional and two, there is a myth among agents that a unit used for coital activities will not be sold, sitting on the list for a long time, and will be a stain on the agent’s record. No wonder there are security guards on weekends to ensure the “sanctity” of the property for sale.

But Morella is not a believer of some real estate myth. She has experience instant offer, and contract closure after so many sexual encounters involving several properties. For her, if a simple release can allow her clients to see the beauty and practicality of the place, then it will be part of her service.

My manhood is inside her mouth now, after we have transferred to the spare bedroom and utilized the well-prepared bed there. The view is astounding, with glass windows from floor to ceiling, allowing voyeurs and exhibitionist a venue.

But my view of her receiving the whole of me is worth more than square windows and endless construction of new buildings outside. She is looking at me as she makes my erect muscle disappear after she moves her head down. She closes her eyes when she accepts my hardness, and I close mine to have a selfish relishing of the sensation brought by her warmth and wetness.

“You are so good” I moaned. She did not answer because it will be an effort to take out a mouthful, and because the answer is obvious.

I begin pushing, slowly, lifting my hips. The deeper I push, the warmer I feel. This makes my thrusting faster, but she stops the momentum. She makes this so effective by using her tongue and flicker the same to the tip of my manhood when I pull out a little. Her lips will embrace and lock down to the shaft, while her tongue is doing the “inside job”.

She initiated the change in position, another way of saying “it is my turn”. The swapping is so smooth, as if it is choreographed. I slipped down and immediately in the canine position while she rolled to her side. With this position, she can open herself to me and I can go down on her without limbs on the way.

I intend to grow my beard and moustache that day. My razor is begging to be used because of my morning routine and was surprised that I did not even touch it. I smiled at it saying, “we are good bud!” because this omission means plea and whimpers with Morella later.

The trick is good in the mind, but better when actually executed. I begin with little kisses, smelling her trimmed nest down there. I started kissing her navel, her inner thighs and her curls. The tease makes her roll her eyes, with her head turning to different directions, especially when my kisses are attended by my exposed tongue.

She cried when my skin touches her.

Her hands automatically push my head away, unconsciously, as defense mechanism. The body can only take so much sensation, and the brain treats the excess as pain or discomfort. But the brain also allows the body to adjust. If it is prepared, relaxed and readied, the sensation can be contained.

The first contact is moist versus moist. I wet my lips and begin to kiss her wet-like opening. Little kisses. She moans every interaction. Giving me the encouragement to move forward. The kisses become playing with my tongue, hardening it so that it can work like a pen that traces the horizontal line. The first strokes are light, on the surface, gradually turning itself to a knife, slicing deeper and deeper.

Morella is almost sitting now, with her back arched and he head rolled up. One hand is supporting her body, not to tumble sideways, while the other is on my hair, trying to stop my invasion. She keeps on whimpering sounds and words that pleases my erotic senses, evidenced by something liquid on the tip of my manhood.

My tongue is more daring, this time it is not just tracing and cutting. It is drilling its way inside of her. She yelped every time the muscle goes to its limit, when it cannot go further anymore, not because of any wall in there, but because the length is not enough to move forward.

I have another muscle that can go deeper.

She begs for that muscle --- she knows it is ready and able. She tries to reach for it, at least to touch it, but I gave her another tongue drilling. She moans and drop her weight to the bed, squirming.

“I am not done yet” I warned her. She looked at me with eyebrows raised.

The trick is about to begin. I kiss her opening again. She spread her legs for me expecting that she will receive another of those little kisses. She shouted when my untrimmed beard touches her opening. She wants to complain, but I started using my chin as the part that explores her now.

“No… no… no…” she pants with eyes closed.

I have heard that plea many times in the bedroom. No means “do not stop”, and yes means “do not stop”. It does not matter if the words are in one long plea or in continuous delivery. When you hear it, you must continue what you are doing. Do not stop.

Until I feel wetness on my chin. No much, but good enough to know that she has been pleasured, and is now ready to accept the final part. She is unapologetic for the mess, and I cannot blame her. It is my own doing.

The time is right, this moment is perfect. She is ready and anticipating. I am hard and imposing. The only missing component is the joining of the body and the equation is complete. But there is a need to approach this delicately. Her wetness is not an indication that she is to be immediately claimed. It just means that the floor is ready for the dance of the flesh.

I entered her, slowly. The push is smooth because she is already lubricated by my efforts. She cannot do anything, except spread her legs more and submit to my control. When the dance begins, the eyes are shut, so that the other senses can partake the delirium. The push and pull will be on tempo, getting faster as our breathing, deeper as she allows and messier as bodily fluids spill.

The release is not physical, it is also a release of strength and the carnal imaginings. Every squirt is a step closer to reality, bringing the bodies to the same room again.

“It is a good thing your wife agreed to give you the funds” Morella is already getting dressed. I am still cleaning my mess. “This unit is ours in a month, you can just pay her in the future”.

Back to reality. It is all because of the real property. Our soon to be paradise. Morella, my forbidden fruit.

Let the future determine God’s punishment.



Chapter FIVE

7 Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.

8 Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden. 



“There was a notification from our savings account that you made a withdrawal yesterday” Heidi is folding our clothes. I transferred the account to my joint account with Morella, so that it will be easier to draw the money when the seller gives the go signal.

“That is for the investment” I said.

“Don’t you think two hundred thousand dollars is a bit too big for an investment?” her voice is calm, but I can feel her worry.

“The higher the risk, the higher the return” I answered bluntly. I do not want to discuss this with her, because we had the same conversation for weeks now.

“But there is also a possibility that none will return, right?” she asked again.

Silence. I do not want to engage her to another argument. Her continuous folding irritates me, she did not even stop. Or am I being overly sensitive?

“What I am saying is that we should look after the future…” she said but I stopped her midsentence.

“I want a divorce” I just said out loud. No warning, no thought process. Pure words.

She collected the folded clothes. She put them on the clothes drawer. She returns to gather the unfolded ones. I am silent.

“Okay” she answered softly before stepping out of the room. I heard her going downstairs.

Do not be guilty I told myself. If you will not find strength to tell her, how can you be happy with Morella? I am looking outside now. I want to paint the picture perfect of Morella and myself in my mind, but the revelation tugs something in me.

She is the perfect sweetheart, when we meet twelve years ago. She is beautiful, with a body that makes men offer gifts just to be with her. She is also bright, not the type that researches in the library or stays in the laboratory for experiments, but because she seems the solution by analysing it in practical perspective. She looks at a problem in the eyes of the beneficiary than a solver.

I am an idealist. My student life is for brewing dreams and ideals to be boxed and opened in the real world. I have the money from my parents’ support, connections and a bright future.

A bright future.

That is why I need someone bright to journey with me towards the future. She is a perfect fit. Her writing in the university publications seems talking to me --- with her practical analysis of controversial topics. The opinion she published about how fashion is killing millennials indirectly, and our obsession on Friendster validation. With her brains, body and beauty, she is my future.

It was mutual understanding, other calls it perfect compatibility, that we dated and go out as boyfriend-girlfriend. Her taste is simple --- clothing, food, date places. Her friends are drawn to her because she can influence even the brand-conscious personalities in the university to reconsider the logos on the clothing, bags and shoes. Maybe because she is beautiful and simple. Maybe because she is just freakin’ awesome.

She gave herself to me on the fourth date, because the first three are either lacking in time or lacking in exclusivity. She said we need to learn immediately if we are sexually compatible, because if our physiological components and parts do not match, or will be forced to match, then we are just wasting our time. Makes sense. Practical approach.

The place is at motor hotel two towns away, to avoid gossipers. We both want to undergo the experience without thinking of any distraction. It is Saturday morning and we both have excuses just to be there, to be with each other.

“Do you have protection?” she asked.

‘What? I… I…” I forgot obviously. Also, because I have not use any on previous sexual act with random girls.

“Don’t worry, I brought you a pack” she smiled. She handed me the 3-pack set. “I also have lubricant. Just in case” she winked.

Her wink was the stimulus. The game of the lips and tongue begins. At first, she is awkward at it, accumulating saliva on the side of her lips, and trying to guess what lips to take, and what to give. When we close our eyes, the real battle begins. There are no expectations anymore, just lip and tongue play. In an instant she become an experienced kisser.

She unbuttons my shirt, then hers. She loves my smooth chest, because the hair lately grew, because her hands are free to caress and touch them. My hands automatically massage her breasts, even with her brazier on. The curves of the lump while touching them brings electric currents to my groin. My brief is tightening.

She unbuttons my 501, in a smooth unfastening, my underwear is exposed. Well, not just the underwear. The kissing and tongue play makes me hard, and the tip was peeking from my white garter. Our mouths remain locked, doing tongue flicking and pushing inside. But her hands are not on my chest anymore. They are going down, tracing my abs, and lower.

I stopped the kiss when she holds it over the remaining clothing. Her hands are so soft, but they can make me really hard. My erection is at its maximum, making my manhood red and shiny. And my brief cannot contain it anymore.

She knows the dilemma, and helps me in setting my enlarged muscle free. It bounced naturally, the gravity trying to pull it down. When it bobs again, and again, that is my doing. She cannot see it because her eyes are shut, still feeling the sensation of torridness, but her hands are there to feel the movement.

I helped her unhook her bra, and I almost howl when I saw her fair, smooth breasts, and the pinkish crown on each. She is not big, but ample enough for my fingers, palms and mouth. In that order, I pleasured her. She was ticklish when it is my mouth’s turn to suckle, but I see how it is done --- from innocent babies to hungry porn stars.

She moans, I moan, and she tried to stop my mouth from taking the strength out of her, especially when my tongue claims her pinkish tip. She shouts out my name, and lots of plea to stop. I don’t, for my mind is out of my body anymore, and I am allowing pleasure to take control. Good choice.

I felt wetness down there.

I position her beneath me, but she pointed at the condom pack. At first, I do not want to put one on, afraid that I might not be as hard when I enter her, but her eyes are determined for me to wear one. I did, and she gave me a treat. She opened her legs wide, wide enough for me to see heaven’s glory. And in heaven I like to go.

Little by little, I began piercing her opening. The sensation of bringing the sharpness to her tenderness is exciting, bringing toughness to my nearly entered tip.

She cried when I entered her, but I console her with kisses. My mouth once again plays with her pinkish pearls, my tongue supporting all the way. I hope to appease her, to relax her, and she did not disappoint me. She nods to me giving the signal for me to move. Slowly, because she still feels the pain.

The game is now about patience and positioning. A wrong move might ruin this moment, and I have the entire day to make this perfect. I need to have control on my entrance and pull out when her face makes weird, painful reactions, and then try again.

Finally, a eureka moment. It is as if the stars and moon align to give us both that position, when I can move forward and deeper, and she can accept my efforts with just pleasure, pure pleasure. There may be little pains in the process, but she is tough and strong. She endures her share of pain for both of us, and we triumph.

I cannot feel the rubber I wear, because her warm liquid washes all other sensation from me. She cries the pleasure again, and I thrust again and again until my body surrenders to sensitivity. We are both breathless when we lie side by side.

We used the entire condom pack.

I will marry her after two years. We will be husband and wife for more than a decade until I finally hand to her the divorce papers she needs to sign.

The sadness in her eyes is bottomless. She has no tears, because they dried up after days and weeks of crying. She keeps her side of the bed, and was obedient still when I came home late, drunk and I need a quick release.

She signed on the dotted lines, above her name.

It is over.

I am free.



Chapter SIX

9 But the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?”

10 He answered, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.”



Morella already reaches orgasm, and is now pleasuring me to spill mine. The drama in our house --- Heidi’s silence and my efforts to make her feel better, is not working. It always ends up by me leaving the house and looking for Morella “support” and countless sleepless nights. That is why Morella is feeling impatient because despite the use of her fingers, hands and mouth, I cannot release my share of our carnal game.

“Now that she signs the papers, we can own this unit” she said. I asked her not to talk about the divorce, because while I wanted it to happen, the accession of my wife is unnerving.

“Less talk, faster movements” I said. Her ability to multitask is phenomenal, she managed to slip on her dress with one hand, the other one busy milking.

“At least, problem solved” she smiled. She is now putting her earrings. “What is the matter with this thing, why is it not squirting?”

I stand up, to her surprise. For the first time of countless tryst in this same bedroom, I cannot make it happen. I shake my head, and begin to put on my clothes.

We are about to leave the bedroom when the main door opened. Morella motioned for me to stand still, keep quiet and wait.

I can hear laughter, no, giggling. When I peep outside, I saw a couple already naked on the living room.

Is this unit a high-class motel for real estate?

I recognized the black man. Harvey, Morella’s colleague. He stands 6’5” with that shining chocolate complexion, defined and chiselled body. You would not expect it from him because he always wears baggy, hand-me-down coat and pants. His body is like a gym instructor with lean muscles all over. Hi abs are so defined they are like imposed, to the delight of her female companion.

She is petite, an Asian lady that stands shorter than 5 feet. The disparity of their height and body built is so apparent, making you want to ask yourself if she can still survive this sexual ordeal especially now that there seems to be a third leg dangling between Harvey’s legs.

But she is a fighter, with her tiny breasts and shaved private parts. She uses her height and weight to cling to Harvey’s muscles arms, locking her legs in his groin area, resting her behind to the semi-erect monster.

“We will do this?” Harvey asked. His voice is deep and loud, thinking they have the unit for themselves.

“Yeah!” the woman replied.

“Yeah?” Harvey asked, teasing her.

“Yeah!” she giggled again.

And I saw her begin to grind her hips, her legs still clinging. Her hands are on Harvey’s nape, her lips on Harvey’s lips. They seem to do this often, or they are that experience because they kiss without effort, like eating each other, in a sensual way.

He released her, and she knows what to do, automatically. She still has her assignment to make him erect, and with that size --- length and width, it will be impossible to give a salute.

Or so I thought.

When she opened her mouth to him, I thought she will die of asphyxiation. Small mouths are not created to receive big muscle parts, and I am reminded again not to push to my mouth, something big that I cannot chew. But she is determined, and she is willing to try.

She gags on every attempt, and I want to go to her to remind her of her folly, but she keeps on trying. Harvey is nowhere in his right mind anymore, her attempt means warmth and tightness for him, and hoping that it will not cease. When she is on that point of surrender, she just uses both hands to squeeze the shaft. She still tries the oral approach but this time, just the tip.

Makes sense. Hurrah for the realization.

“What’s the matter Baby, too big for you?” Harvey asks.

I look at Morella, and she just rolled her eyes. I asked her how are we leaving the unit, and she just glares at me like it was my fault that we are in this situation in the first place.

“If mouth can’t, other parts can” she commented, almost choking.

Both our eyes go bigger with that comment. Morella is mouthing “are you fuckin’ kidding me?”.

When I look at the couple again, it is too late to stop. Harvey is now thrusting, wetting his manhood with her saliva, which he collects using his long fingers. He then applies it to her opening, and some to that part of him that “can” enter. Her moans become wails of pain and discomfort.

“Baby, you are bleeding. You want me to continue?” Harvey said. Whatever her answer is, he would not care. He is a slave of his lust, whether he hurts another.

When I looked at Morella, she is dialling the phone.

Harvey’s phone rings, he looks at it and ignore. Morella dialled and dialled, until finally, Harvey stopped drilling, and answers the phone.

“Morella, I am in the middle of something, I cannot answer the phone” he said.

“You will answer this call and stop the hell you are doing if you do not want to lose your job” she said. She steps out of the bedroom and Harvey dropped his phone. ‘What the hell Harvey? She is yelling.

I stepped out after her.

“I am sorry, I am sorry” he apologized profusely.

“What is happening Harvey? The naked woman asked. She is bleeding.

“What is happening is that Harvey will send you to the hospital” Morella is in control of the situation now.

“Or, we can delay the hospital visit and you both join us” Harvey is smiling. “Besides, your client here is excited as well” he points to my crotch, now unusually bulging.

“Try to invite us again and I will hit you with that dark thing in between your legs” she warned him. I laugh.

“And I will hit you with his, as well”. We exit.





Chapter SEVEN

11 And he said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?”

2 The man said, “The woman you put here with me—she gave me some fruit from the tree, and I ate it.”

13 Then the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this you have done?”

The woman said, “The serpent deceived me, and I ate.”

14 So the Lord God said to the serpent, “Because you have done this,

Cursed are you above all livestock
    and all wild animals!
You will crawl on your belly
    and you will eat dust
    all the days of your life.



“What the hell man, you are leaving Heidi?” one of my closest office mate commented. I am drinking my second coffee for the day when he just appeared from nowhere and start meddling with my personal life.

“None of your business Archie” I said.

“Yeah, until you say bad things about her on social media”. Archie said, reading some tweets and Facebook status.

“Again, none of your business” I continue typing.

“Yup, because you are in control of leaving a marriage for a piece of real estate female parts” he murmured before leaving me alone.

I was intrigued. What the hell are those texts and statuses he is telling me about?

You what? Why in the hell did you leave her for your real estate agent?

I forgive myself for leaving Heidi, because now I have a justification why I married her in the first place --- It is never about love or commitment, but my excitement to have children, to build a family with her.

But she is barren. Let us leave it at that.

“Shit, Morella” I am angry. One of the first outburst between us. “Really? An hour before the last divorce discussion?”

“Cool Baby” she said, pretending innocence. “She needs to know why you are leaving her. Something that she cannot give you, no matter how hard she tries”.

Honesty, one of Morella’s many admirable traits.

She was honest enough to tell me that my zip is open when I hurriedly ran after the lift, because I am late for a meeting. She was honest to tell me that there are stains of naughtiness on the crotch part of my khaki pants that day. I was embarrassed. A gorgeous woman telling me that I am careless not to clean the remains of my afternoon delight.

But I made it about her. Attempting to make the experience positive.

“Perhaps you are just imagining things” I commented. “The pants are clean, your mind is not”.

I thought she will surrender, or she will slap me with her palms or a sexual harassment lawsuit. She is not the type who will allow male chauvinistic pigs to get away with such lewd comments.

“It is dirty. There are two big drops, and a little one near the zipper “she said, expressionless. She is looking at the bait, and if I play this well, I can catch an attractive fish at the end of the line.

“I can’t see any” I said. “And why are you looking at my crotch anyway?” I look at her. She is looking at her phone.

She snaps a photo of me.

I was surprised by the flash of the phone. Then, I panicked. She has my picture and evidence of the man who hurls sexual jokes and insinuations to her. I want to get her phone and throw it out on the nearest window. If it breaks, no more evidence.

She zooms the picture ad let me see her mobile phone screen. There it is, my crotch. She zooms to the zipper area, and points the three droplets that was previously there. I laughed because she is correct, and the picture is her proof. When she zooms it to the actual picture size, my face is not seen. I sigh of relief.

“But you know, the stain can easily be taken care of” she said. Her fingers are now on the stains on her mobile phone, and she begins to touch the screen, like cleaning it, but slower. “Like this”.

Her eyes are full of desire now, or at least that is how I can see them. She continues to do the motion on her mobile, hoping that what she touches there translates to the real thing.

And it did. There is the familiar bulge on that area.

She laughed. “Oh, there seems to be a problem” she commented. “If you want, we can take care of the problem”.

The voice on the elevator announced my floor number. I have few seconds to decide. Will I bite the bait initially positioned for her? Or will just treat this as something to talk about during one of the alcohol conversations?

In five minutes, my pants are down and is thrusting frantically. She bends in front of me, and her position makes it easy for me to push deeper, her legs protecting my strength to go full throttle. The ladies’ restroom is closed, twice checked if locked.

After a few minutes of panting, and shoving, and accepting, the deal is done. I will purchase the next available unit she will show me, because she is this good. Very good.


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