Clara (last part)

I AWOKE the next day and felt more refreshed than I had in ages. I glanced at the bedside clock. Holy Moley, I had slept fifteen hours straight!

I showered quickly, put on my favorite robe, a ten-year old terry cloth, and briskly walked to the kitchen for some coffee. I walked on buoyant legs, with a spring in them, and a lightness all through me that bordered on the mystical. I felt, if challenged, I could walk on water.

I tried to get Portal's attention by humming loudly, but he was either asleep or ignoring me. Oh, well, I finally said to myself, when he comes around, he comes around. And, if he never spoke to me again, well, that too was fine with me. Especially with the wonderful way I was feeling today.

Thinking of Portal now, I realized I couldn't remember the last time we had talked to each other. Was it just yesterday? Last night? I couldn't remember, and it frustrated me. Because it seemed somehow important that I remember. But, at the same time, it seemed okay to forget, as if someone had given me permission to do so.

However, try as I might, the only words I could remember coming out of Portal, and possiblly the last words he had uttered to me, now sounded inane to me, as if spoken by a linguistic pedant. "You will never remember the things I now tell you to always forget!"

The sentence seemed idiotic to me, and unnecessarily drawn out. Like taking a ten block roundabout trip just to go one block. It also vaguely reminded me of the childish lunacy in Alice in Wonderland, but I didn't know why. I did know, however, that thinking hard was giving me a headache. So, before I let it spoil my thus far nice day, I switched my attention back to fixing the coffee.

The coffee, for a change, was perfect. Its usual bitter taste was absent. Even the sugar in it tasted special, as if the absolute correct amount had been used. I drank it with relish and gusto. I was alive, and feeling absolutely wonderful and grateful to be so.

Then my doorbell rang, its chimes sounding strangely beautiful to me. Ding-dong, ding-dong-ding! I purposely ignored it, hoping it would repeat itself for my benefit. I wasn't disappointed. Ding-dong, ding- dong-ding! I waited even more. Ding-dong, ding-dong-ding! How lovely they sounded, like the tinkle of Tibetan temple bells.

"Coming," I yelled out on my way to the door. I threw it open, and there she was, whoever she was. She was so beautiful, I totally forgot I had my hand on a door named Portal.

"Geezy peezy, Arthur, I thought you'd died!" She kissed me lightly on the lips and pushed past me, as if she had done this many times before. I went along with what I now considered to be a joke. No doubt one sprung on me by Portal, that playful, frisky pixie. Besides, the strange woman was delighting me in just looking at her.

She said, "Arthur, can we talk . . .?" She reminded me of Joan Rivers.

"Later!" I snarled, feeling the new me take hold. I then reached out and took her into my new, bold-as-brass confident arms. I then got even bolder, inspired by her lack of resistance to me.

"Kiss me!" I said to her, half expecting a slap across my puss. Instead, she put her arms around my neck, and planted a good one on me. A good juicy one, with her tongue playfully teasing mine. A good kisser, I thought, even if she turns out to be Joan Rivers.

She broke the kiss, but left her arms around my neck. She looked me right in the eyes, and said, "Whew, Arthur, I take it you missed me!" Well, I miss . . . "

To shut her up, I kissed her again. Then I heard the lovely creature moan, obviously enthralled with my fantastic kiss. "Mmmm!" So I kept kissing her. At one point, she broke from the kiss and said, "Your hair smells nice." I had no idea what she meant by the remark, so I kissed her again.

I felt my now erect cock's head hurting itself against the robe's rough terry cloth interior. I tugged at the robe's belt, pulled it away, and felt the robe part, exposing my naked front to her. Sensing my action, she put a hand down and found my cock. She squeezed it a few times, and moaned again. Whoever she was, I had no doubts that I would f*ck her. But first things first . . .

"On your knees, love!" I commanded, feeling like a new man all over. She obeyed, without even the slightest of protest.

"Now, suck me off, woman!" The woman did and, in minutes, I came in her mouth. I then instructed her to clean all her cunt juices from my prick. She did, and I was impressed by her devotion to the task.

"Now, cunt, let's f*ck!" The word cunt put a sour look on her face, but I didn't care. She seemed the willing sex slave, and that's all that mattered to the new me at the moment.

I fucked her, but with an animalistic passion I felt she had never known in her entire life. I was, if I may say so myself, absolutely magnificent. I pounded her *ss into the bed, making the bed squeak loudly in protest. Then, just when she might suspect I was going to tire, I let the dogs out!


I hammered her. I rag-doll fucked her. I pummeled her pussy so hard; I thought the bed would collapse. Squeak, squeak, squeak! She moaned and yelled. I moaned and yelled. I sweated profusely.

I was giving her the f*ck of her life. Using a new dick on her that was beyond magnificent, it was mystical and godlike. And long, and fat, and thick, and as hard as tungsten steel.

Then I yelled, magnificently, and at the top of my lungs, "Oh, God! Oh, God! I'm cumming, baby, hold still and take me! Oh, God! Oh, God! Now! It's cumming now! Can you feel it? Oh, God!" And I heard her say, quite clearly, unlike some men, that she could feel me cumming, and she enjoyed saying it so much, she said it again.

Then I collapsed upon her, my sweat splushing between us. I then kissed her, passionately, the way true lovers do, and then crawled up beside her and cuddled her to my sweaty, hot body.

As she snuggled sweetly into my arms, I asked her to tell me her name. She sat up, rigidly, and looked right at me. A look of puzzlement and anger on her face.

"My name? My name? Arthur, what the hell's wrong with you? You've been acting weird ever since I got here. And what's with all that 'Oh, God, I'm cumming, baby!' crap you were yelling out? In a deep voice that sounded just like Nick." She grabbed a breath before going on. The puzzled look had left her face, but the look of anger remained. "I don't get it, Arthur. You'd think seven years together would count for something, and you'd be eager for us to talk. But, no, all you wanted to do was practically rape me the instant I walked through the door, without even so much as a 'How ya been, Clara? Long time no see.' What's wrong with you, Arthur? Huh? What the f*ck's wrong with you?" She was glaring at me now.

I looked at her, this Clara woman, but I was unable to speak. It was obvious she knew me, and very well, and I should have known her, too, but for the life of me, I had no idea who she was. She didn't seem even slightly familiar to me.

Staring back at her now, I racked my brain for even a shred of a glimmer of recognition for her, but I found none there. Clara was as unknown and as alien to me as a visitor from outer space. The only name I could muster up from my memory banks, the only name I could even hazily remember, was Portal . . .