There are few things in this world worst than getting shot. One of them would be getting shot naked. Another would be looking into the face of your cop father after being shot naked by your Mafia princess girlfriend. I know them all. By rights I should be part of the fourth generation of law enforcement in my family, which consists not just of cops, but judges, attorneys and federal agents. Somewhere down the line, my family decided that the best way to prove themselves to the White Man would be to become "the man" themselves. Very Booker T. Washington. But I didn’t want to prove myself to anyone. I just wanted to make movies. Only my mother, a cop’s daughter herself, supported my decision. She’d done late-night–waiting for a father, a brother and a husband. Not to do it for a son would be a relief. My father bitched loudly---especially when he realized just how much it would cost to send me to NYU rather than the family standard of John Jay---but my mother’s quiet resolve proved more than a match for his loud one. It was at NYU that I met Gina. Gina Ruggerio was every mother’s nightmare of a girlfriend for her son. She was loud, opinionated and wore her sexuality like a bright badge of honor. It’s nothing new for Bridge & Tunnel girls to dress a bit on the slutty side, but Gina took it to a new level. Despite the designer labels, every piece of clothing she owned was either short, tight or revealing. It served one purpose and one purpose only: to make her more attractive to men. The irony is, Gina needed no help. She was every inch a woman. There wasn’t a straight line to be found on her body. At the time I met her, however, this was still a relatively new development, as Gina had spent the decade between six and sixteen as a full-blown gymnast, with the corresponding lean, muscular, almost boy-like body. Only a career-ending knee injury allowed nature to finally take its course. Minus a regimen so intense it can actually prevent menstruation, Gina’s body was finally allowed to give in to puberty, and it did so with a vengeance. Initially, Gina resented what was lost, but then she discovered the new power she wielded over men and women alike. Already a popular girl, Gina took over her clique of rich little Jersey girls almost overnight. An already possessing a dangerous visage of Olive skin, sharp cheekbones and eyes that were actually gray, but with enough emerald flecks to give them the illusion of actually being green, Gina now had a firm, yet curvy body. And the crown on all of this was a mane of jet-black hair, that reached the middle of her back in its naturally curly state, but would hang down to her ass when straightened. "Stipper hair" we called it, another Bridge & Tunnel standard. With all of this, you’d think Gina would need a gun to keep men off her. She didn’t, but then again, she didn’t have to. Her family had enough guns to do that. Gina Ruggerio, I learned was the only daughter of Michael "Little Mikey" Ruggerio, head of one of New Jersey’s largest waste management businesses. A nice way of saying that her family was mobbed up like the Corleones. Having turned my back on anything to do with law enforcement or its antithesis, I was oblivious to all this. Only thanks to the odd font of knowledge that was my roommate at the time did I discover the truth. As soon I introduced him to Gina, he paused and gave me a look. It meant nothing to me, but Gina noticed and gave him a withering stare that sent him scouring to his top bunk until she left our room. Afterwards, he not only told me about her, but also took me online and showed me the Ruggerio history at a Mafia website. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that part of me got off on possibly dating some Mafia princess. My family, which had given me no support at all, would freak and I would love every minute of it. The interracial aspect paled in comparison. Ironically, Gina had her family’s total support. They had no desire for her to go into the family business. This is not to say she didn’t know what was going on, but they were more than happy to pack her off to film school and take pains not to visit her unless they absolutely had to. I, on the other hand, was so regularly visited by my family that no one felt safe buying drugs in my dorm. Nevertheless, there are advantages to being a child of law enforcement. Besides being able to park anywhere you liked and never having to worry about any sort of traffic ticket, I have an almost uncanny ability to read people. What took some a lifetime to develop was a birthright to me. Within moments of meeting someone, I knew who they were, what they were about and why. And I could spot a liar a million miles away. It only serves that, coming from the other side, Gina possessed similar gifts of intuition, only a little more limited. She could only smell two basic emotions: weakness and fear. But her home that was all you needed. Discovering Gina’s background only supported what I already knew about her. At our first meeting in class, in a debate over imagery in film, I knew she was a girl used to always getting her own way. I could also sense the ruthlessness within; the willingness to do whatever she had to get what she wanted, no matter how much it hurt. Discovering her history only provided a rational explanation for this. Like me, she didn’t choose the family trade, but still had the tools This should have been an easy hook up, but I could never do things the easy way. Especially when my ego was involved. Despite our mutual attraction, I could tell Gina took for granted she’d have me whenever she liked. It was as though I was something she’d get to when she had the chance, whereas she was on the top of my list. Because of this, when my time did finally come around the middle of October, I resisted. Her puzzled reaction was as if I’d not only refused, but then told her I was now going to sprout wings and fly home. She even asked me if I were joking. More than simply saying no, I chose to feign an interest in a girl named Piper, who was far from quick, but was very pretty and had such huge breasts on her small frame, that it was a wonder she could stand upright. And the jealousy she inspired in even the most secure girl made me wonder if were simply a genetic response they couldn’t help. Gina proved to be no exception to this. I could tell that, despite her own gifts, she still felt less-than-womanly in comparison to someone like Piper. Her bemused look at my refusal and the reasons behind it quickly gave way to raised eyebrow of contempt "Whatever," she said in a dismissive tone as she turned on her heel and walked away. Gina and I spent the next few weeks playing a game of sexual chicken, much to the amusement of our study group. It finally reached a point where, rather than admit we wanted each other, we each slept with someone else. Gina’s hook-up was a random, drunken party choice of some pretty-boy actor. After discovering this from study group gossip---as if the satisfied smile on her face wasn’t enough---I was then forced to seal the deal with Piper. I got Piper into my bed through the skillful manipulation of what I saw to be her boyfriend’s limitations. She was dating a narcissistic jock type, so I never failed to ask her solely about herself when we spoke, and I always looked her squarely in the eyes, never at her more obvious assets. I even went out of my way to compliment her on them, though to me her wide doe eyes were simply another indication of how limited her mental faculties truly were. The eyes may be the windows to the soul for poets, but for me they’re filters. Narrowed eyes keep the crap out and the wisdom in, while those wide-eyed individuals like Piper, tend to know nothing and believe everything. The effect my efforts had on Piper were almost immediate and she began to confide in me her dreams, which seemed to have remained unchanged since she was six years old. I’ve long since forgotten what they were, but for some reason a house made of candy in a magic forest seems to come to mind. Her boyfriend only aided my cause by breaking up with her at just after Gina’s own conquest, claiming to "need space" when all he really wanted to do was screw around freely on road trips. It didn’t take much to seduce her after that. I took Piper to dinner under the guise of consoling her, where, I let her consume as many fruit-flavored drinks as necessary to allow the fulfillment of her desire to have sex with a man who wanted her for her beautiful eyes, not her breasts, and didn’t laugh at her desire for a peppermint cottage in Neverland. As I sucked the sweet taste of pineapple daiquiri from Piper’s tongue, I ran my fingers through her hair, then behind her ears, down her neck, over her shoulders then down her back, but never, ever touching her most obvious assets. In fact, by the time I was bringing her to her first orgasm through a mixture of finger-fucking and whispering only the sweetest vulgarities in her ear, only her shirt and panties had been removed. Piper was sitting on my bed with her back pressed against me; her skirt pulled up to her waist and legs spread wide. Her head rested on my shoulder as I caressed her tongue with mine. Her breasts, her ultimately defining characteristic, remained firmly encased in the formidable, yet delicately pretty blue brasserie she wore. As removed my wet fingers from inside her and brought them up to my face, Piper’s eyes popped open with a mixture of fear and excitement. Recognizing her own scent, she obviously expected me to have her taste herself for my own cheap thrill. The sad part is, she would have done it. Long ago had Piper accepted that she was here for the pleasure of men. What she wanted and preferred would always run a distant second to whom she’d decided to give herself. The key to my success that night, would be a complete reversal of that thinking. To this end, I feinted a move to her mouth then quickly took the sticky fingers into my own and smiled appreciatively at the tangy flavor. Those silly wide eyes narrowed for the first time in a naked desire that I’m sure she’d never allowed before or since. Before I knew it, Piper had pushed me onto my back with a ferocious kiss and released her most valuable treasure, removing her bra with a deft motion that required only two fingers of one hand. Houdini couldn’t have done it better. In nanoseconds I found myself buried in her softest flesh, as she moved up to rub them against my face, something that her boyfriend no doubt delighted in. I had push Piper back out of a necessity to breathe. Once I’d found a comfortable zone, however, I began to softly kiss and lick the valley between her breasts. As I did so, I placed the thumb and forefinger of my left hand in her mouth. Once her gentle sucking had lubricated them enough, I then placed them on her left nipple and began to softly roll the flesh. Her right nipple I took into my mouth and tried to mirror the activity being performed on the left. Though primarily sex objects only to men, breasts are no less an erogenous zone for it. One just has to be gentle. I was fortunate enough to lose my virginity to a girl who could orgasm just through nipple stimulation. I never forgot the lessons learned with her. As I manipulated her breasts, Piper’s arousal increased and she began to grind her naked pelvis against my still clothed one. Realizing the impediment, Piper slid either hand down my hips and into my boxer briefs and began to push them down. Realizing this type of aggressiveness was hardly her, I stoked the fires by whispering softly in her ear, "Piper, I would like you like to sit on my face. Would you like that?" "Yes," she moaned almost with a hiss, lowering herself to kiss and bite my neck. "Oh, god, yes!" She left my underwear rolled halfway down as she quickly slid up over me and covered my face with her musky sweetness. Almost hairless thanks to an adherence to modern beauty standards, I had no trouble taking her clitoris into my mouth and sending her towards her second orgasm of the night and, judging by her overwhelming appreciation, possibly her first through oral sex. It snowballed from there. I’d opened up something in Piper that she’d either kept closed or had been forced to keep closed for most of her life. The quiet, undemanding girl I’d initially seduced was seemingly replaced by a nymphomaniac with Tourette’s Syndrome. The word "fuck" was used as a noun, verb, adverb, adjective and modifier. By the time she’d ground us both into our final orgasms of the night by "fucking fucking my fucking dick in her fucking pussy" and collapsed into sleep on top of me, I felt as though I’d been through a storm, doing all I could just to hold on. But that was good, not so much for the sex, but for what it meant in my dealings with Gina. The glow of a well-fucked individual is unmistakable to those who know. I spotted it on Gina across a room. After that night with Piper, Gina should be able to spot me from the Empire State Building. The next morning I was not surprised to see that Piper had gone back into her shell. She covered herself with a sheet and meekly asked for her clothing. All that remained was a smile she couldn’t quite control. She swore me to secrecy and swore she’d never return. A day later, she was back at my door. Ironically, my silence wasn’t the problem. It was Piper who couldn’t keep silent about her new and improved sex life. Not only were her girlfriends suddenly giving more attention than before, but angry glares from her ex-boyfriend also became commonplace. But I could have cared less about any of it. It was another party entirely whose reaction I was looking for. I was finishing my first week of dealing with Piper’s newly discovered passion---which she was starting to ruin by feeling the need to talk to me---when Gina finally let me know that she knew and was not happy. We’d been doing research in the film library, watching old films on video, when she wrinkled her nose at Jane Russell and said, "You’d probably love her." "Excuse me?" I replied. "That’s your thing right? Udders?" I ignored that remark and the others that followed, which only prompted her to become more and more belligerent. At one point, she gripped her pen like she was going to stab me with it. I should have paid more attention to that as it turned out. After we were done screening, she was getting her things together in a huff when I asked her if she’d like to get dinner. Like my initial rejection, I’d again caught her off guard. First, she was openly surprised, then a slow smile spread across her face. It was almost too easy. Dinner was Mexican and when I suggested we just get the pitcher of margaritas she nodded her agreement with even less interest than when I suggested we order a side of sour cream. Drinks were a wasted reflex on my part. Gina didn’t need any "social lubrication" in order to be more open. As soon as the orders had been taken, she launched into an interrogation of my relationship with Piper. "So, what’s it like fucking that big-boobed slut?" "Piper is anything but, and you know it." I replied. "Why are women always so mean to each other like that?" Gina ignored my question and continued on with her own. What was it like? Was Piper any good? Did Piper think I was good? Why? What’s my favorite position? I’d like to blame the alcohol for the more graphic questions, ("What did she taste like?") but the truth is, she’d have asked them anyway--- much to the chagrin of the table next to us. The two middle-aged women who had the misfortune of sitting there, then made the mistake of indicating their displeasure with one too many loud exhalations and eye-rolls. Gina caught it and lit into them and their "saggy boobs and dried up cunts." I was so amused at having to literally drag her out of that place, that it was worth never being able to eat there again. Her gymnast days may have been long behind her, but Gina was still solid. I grabbed her in a bear hug from behind to try and control her, but she was so strong, it was only my superior height and weight that gave me any advantage. Of course it might have been easier if I wasn’t laughing so hard. Once outside the restaurant, the cool air seemed to take the fight out of her, but I didn’t lessen my grip. She noticed. "You can take your thumb outta my ass any time now, Carmine," she said, quoting one of our mutually favorite movies. As she did so, she ground her own ass into my crotch. "Stop that," I said through clenched teeth. The smell of her was clouding my brain even more than the alcohol. Chanel. "Stop….what?" she said turning back to me so that she was speaking directly into my cheek. In the cold air, her breath seemed hotter than normal as she ground back into me harder with each syllable. She needn’t have. I’d pretty much been hard since the beginning of dinner. Of course she knew that now. The scent and the friction seemed to rob me of my strength and my grip on her slackened. Gina immediately popped free and turned to face me. She looked me up and down while sucking in her cheeks, as if measuring my worth. For a moment it seemed as though she found me wanting, because she quickly turned to the street and hailed a cab. One stopped almost immediately, but I was still too consumed by the sensations of smell and touch to even move. I don’t know long I stood there looking at the open cab door before she told me to get my ass in the car. Likewise, I was unaware of how long the cab sat in front of her dorm while we were groping each other in the backseat. The driver didn’t care, because he just let the meter run. When I finally realized we’d stopped, I matched his apathy with a $20 bill for a $5 cab ride and didn’t wait for change. It was halfway through the elevator ride up to Gina’s room that I realized something else: despite all the groping, grabbing rubbing and talking, she hadn’t once let me kiss her. Oh, I’d kissed her neck, her ears, even her breasts and she’d begun a handjob on me that made me realize how poorly I’d been doing it wrong all my life, but never, ever did our lips meet. Instead, every time I tried, she pulled back and mentioned Piper. She later told me that I’d committed the most cardinal sin known: crossing a Sicilian in the matters of love. Or at the very least, lust. "What about your girlfriend?" she taunted me in cab and now in the elevator. "Why would you want to kiss me after her? I’m sure she’s a much better kisser." "Why don’t we find out?" I said, making another move to her mouth. "No," she said, turning her head and offering up only her neck, which I accepted without hesitation. "I’m afraid I would only disappoint you." The elevator doors opened and she began to lead me out by my now exposed erection. There was no one in the hallway, but I wouldn’t have cared if there were. As she opened her door, I kissed the back of her neck and roamed my hands freely over her breasts and even down between her legs, where I found the most delicious heat. But even when she rotated her hips in appreciation of my attentions there, she wouldn’t let me kiss her. We stumbled into her dorm room which was lit only by a small lamp over one of the twin beds that were placed against either wall in the compact space. At the heads of both beds were simple wood-simulated desks, with matching bureaus at the foot. "I ‘m going to the bathroom," Gina announced, removing her coat. "Push those beds together." She went into the bathroom and I did as I was told. I then removed my coat, but placed my hard-on back into my pants. In a brief moment of clarity I had a vision of how I must have looked that way, fully clothed, with my dick sticking out. On top of one of the bureaus was a CD player with a stack of CD’s next to it. I began to look through it for mood music only to discover it was all mood music. My instincts then pushed through the veil of lust and liquor and I took full measure of the very clean room, the soft lighting and prepared soundtrack and realized this had pretty much been planned. I was stunned. How could she have known that was the night I’d ask her to dinner? Gina came out of the bathroom with her hair now released from the ponytail it had been in all evening and it flowed over her shoulders and down her back. She’d removed her shoes and now glided across the floor in that way all dancers and gymnasts do, making the most of every step, because at any moment they might take flight. "Put on something you like," she said as she opened the small fridge and took out a liter of water. "There should be something there." Gina took a long swallow from the bottle and sat on the newly formed double bed with her back against the wall. I just watched her for a moment. "What?" she finally said. "Where’s your roommate?" I asked. "Oh, she’s somewhere else tonight." "Coincidence?" "If you believe in that sort of thing," she said with a smile. I shook my head, unable to control my own smile. "How?" Gina feigned a look of innocence, but I made it clear with my body language that I wasn’t going further until I was told how I was checkmated long after the game was over. "I told my roommate I’d be studying with you tonight and that anything could happen." She smiled. "Now come here." "Do I get to kiss you now?" I asked, pressing the "PLAY" button on the CD player, filling the room with Sade. "Yes," she said, placing the water on desk that sat the head of bed. I moved in to kiss her when she stopped me with a single finger on my mouth. "But not those lips." Gently, with just that one finger, she pushed my head down to her lap. As I began to unbutton her skintight pants, she softly stroked my head, which was at its soft fuzz stage after my monthly shaving. Gina caressed my ears creating goosebumps all over my body. She traced a line over eyebrows and nose and my lips on down to my chin before following my jawline back up the other side to start all over again. It made it difficult to complete the simple task of five buttons. "Am I bothering you?" she teased. "Not…at…all," I said, finally reaching the last button. I grabbed the pants at the waist on either side and began to pull them down. Gina giggled as she raised herself enough for me to get them over her ass. They were so tight, they didn’t slide off and pulled themselves inside out by the time I was done. She wore a green thong that so perfectly matched the flecks in her eyes, I knew it was not a coincidence. "Coordinated down to the last," I murmured. "And you’re not?" "That’s for you to find out…if you’re lucky." A snort was her only response. I was about to move back between her legs when she issued another command: "On second thought, start at my toes." I briefly considered not doing it, but for some reason my father’s voice came into my head. "Everyone has a weakness, Simon. In fact most people have quite a few. But what they don’t know is that they can choose them. Make sure you choose yours carefully, son." This was his way of rationalizing his treatment of drug addicts. In his mind, they chose to be weak this way and were therefore, totally responsible and undeserving of treatment, just punishment. I decided then and there that this, giving into my desire, would be my weakness of the moment. I was sure I could banish it just as easily in the morning. But that’s what all fools tell themselves before the first hit, isn’t it? Dancers and gymnasts ironically, have the ugliest feet in the world. The most beautiful and graceful of activities resulted in a brutalizing of its basic and most valuable component. Gina’s feet had obviously seen hundreds if not thousands of dollars worth of pedicures to undo a decade’s worth of damage, but some of the signs still remained. I knew that her desire to have them attended to was just as much an insecurity as a preference and couldn’t help myself. I looked at the superbly manicured feet and said dryly, "Nice feet." Almost instantly the left foot hit the right side of my face accompanied by some sort of Italian obscenity. I quickly began to kiss and lick the inside of her right foot and felt her stiffen. The attack stopped as quickly as it had begun. Slowly, I slid my tongue up the inside of her foot to her big toe and began to felliate it, drawing upon my own experiences of speed and use of tongue. Apparently, I learned well, as Gina closed her eyes and began to moan appreciatively and began to stroke my face with her left foot. I then repeated the action on the other four toes. By the time I was ready to start on her left foot, she’d slid a hand under her thong and had begun to rub her pussy. Her eyes were open now and she watched me suck her toes, while I watched her play with herself, each feeding into the other. When I began to gently bite her, I saw a quick downward flick of the wrist as she pushed a finger inside herself. "You know," I said, rapidly kissing, licking and biting my way up her leg, "I could do that for you." "You think so?" she with wicked smile that caused her lip to curl and gave my erection even more density. She pulled her hand out and held it before me to taste. I moved to do so and she quickly pulled it back and put her fingers in her own mouth and I knew it wasn’t so much an attempt to thrill me like other girls I’d known who’d done it as much as a sincere delight in doing so. "You’re very bad host," I said. "Don’t you know you’re supposed to serve your guest first?" Gina smiled at me and quickly removed her panties, revealing what had to have been a very expensive bikini wax. Thankfully however, what hair remained was thick and faithful to its natural triangular shape. If I never see another vertical two-inch landing strip again in my life, I’ll die a happy pussy eater. Gina drew her legs back and began to rub her clitoris again. "Well," she said, "come and get it." I lay flat on my stomach between her legs. The first thing I noticed, the first thing I always noticed, was the smell. Chanel again. She’d put $250 an ounce perfume in her pubic hair. Goddamn. I felt my face got hot with the intense rush of blood. If I didn’t get control over myself, it was going to be over before it began. "You okay?" Gina asked, noticing my struggle to contain myself. "I…could not…be better." I then slowly slid my tongue over the fold of flesh where the leg meets the pelvis, inhaling deeply the mixture of the Chanel and her own natural scent. I felt her buttocks tremble in my hand as she reflexively tilted her hips upwards. I licked and sucked at the crevice in her leg as though it were her pussy, making her squirm and try to move over so my mouth would be in the proper place, but I held her firm and didn’t move. Again, I was cursed, but this time in good old Anglo-Saxon. "You fuck." She was also trying not to laugh. I lifted up from the crevice, moved to the center---then totally passed over her pussy and reestablished myself in the crevice on her left leg. This was too much for Gina. She screeched, grabbed my head with both hands and forced my face into her wet, warm center. She then began grinding against me, hissing at me through clenched teeth: "That’s right, eat that pussy. Eat it, eat it, you fucker." I did as I was told and soon her gyrations ceased, as did her speaking and she lay back and took her pleasure. Realizing I’d worked her up a bit too much, I decided to give Gina a quick release. I only licked her outer lips softly for a few moments before sucking directly on her clit, then quickly flicking it with my tongue until her sudden arching and muscle tenses let me know she’d had at least one small orgasm. Gina released a breath of grateful satisfaction and began to make herself more comfortable on the bed, removing the last articles of her clothing. She obviously expected more from me. "Roll over," I said, issuing my first command of the night. She smiled wickedly at me and complied, knowing enough to raise her ass at me once she did. I spread her cheeks and wasn’t surprised to find her asshole hairless. It was a very thorough bikini wax. The scent of Chanel wasn’t as strong there, but there wasn’t anything unpleasant either. In fact, I detected a fresh soap smell, indicating what had probably been part of her bathroom trip. She’d expected this as well. I started at the perineum---what my uncle once called a "taint"---which may be a more sensitive spot than either of the orifices it lays between because, unlike them, it’s not used to being touched. Gina’s was no exception. And exhalation of a deity escaped her lips when I lay my tongue there and drew up to the crinkly rosebud of her anus. I gently rubbed her clit as I rotated my tongue in a clockwise motion. Finally I pushed my tongue inside her, finding the deepest heat yet. As I did so, I increased my finger speed on her clit. Her orgasm caused her sphincter to tighten pushing my tongue out. This was a stronger one than before and took a few more seconds to finish. I slid my fingers inside her and held them there, feeling her orgasm from the inside out. "You better go wash your fucking face, if you expect me to kiss you," Gina finally said. "And if I don’t expect to be kissed? I mean, I’m kinda used to it at this point." "Fucking wash it anyway," she giggled, gently hitting me with a pillow. As I stood to go to the bathroom she stretched out like a well-fed cat. As I walked away, she reminded me to wash everything. Apparently, she was prepared to give as good as she got, but I wasn’t so sure I was ready to receive. At that point in my life, no one had ever done that to me before. And attempted finger had freaked me so bad, I sprained her wrist. Nonetheless, considering her head would be in the general area, a little maintenance wouldn’t be totally out of the question. When I came out of the bathroom, Gina was still stretched out, scissoring the air with her incredibly toned legs. All over, her skin was smooth, olive perfection, the result no doubt, of exquisite, expensive care. Hopefully this could offset the damage done during her frequent tanning visits, which left her nearly as dark as myself. Her brow furrowed at the sight of me and she raised up on one elbow. "You put your pants back on?" I had and now felt incredibly stupid, but I recovered quickly. I removed my shirt as I moved to the edge of the bed and told her it was her turn. Gina smiled at me and began to undo my pants as she kissed my chest. My stomach tightened so hard at the touch her lips, I thought I’d give myself an abdominal cramp. She moved up to my nipple and sucked it softly, before giving it a bite that was obviously meant to be as painful as it was pleasurable. In an odd sort of juxtaposition, Gina finally placed her lips to mine as she was completing the removal of my pants. She kissed me softly at first, tasting me, then fully covered my mouth with her own and gave her tongue to mine. As our tongues slid along each other as softly as clouds, Gina was now sliding down my underwear. Once totally freed, she cupped my balls with one hand and resumed her excellent handjob with the other. Ironically, I was the one so distracted by these manipulations that the kiss was broken. Gina never stopped. Without my lips, she began to kiss and bite my neck. Between her hands and her mouth, I felt as though I was being devoured whole. And it was just beginning. Feeling a familiar tingle much too soon, I stopped Gina’s hands and pushed her back so I could fully remove my pants and underwear, which were now gathered at my thighs. Gina released a small laugh of triumph. She knew exactly what she’d done to me. This was now showing the distinct signs of a grudge fuck, where one had sex not to pleasure oneself or one’s partner, but to reduce one’s partner to a quivering mass of sweaty flesh, thus proving one’s sexual superiority. Fully nude, I moved onto the bed on my knees. Gina came to me the same way and again we kissed, our hands exploring as much of the other’s body as possible, giving actual sensation to what had only been imagined by both of us for the past few months. I felt as though we were mentally mapping every inch of one another’s skin. I was the first to return to the business at hand, slipping my hand down her firm stomach and between her legs, where I slipped a finger back inside her. Gina to moaned into my mouth, raising the stakes not just with a firmer grip on my organ, but also by rubbing it against her body for the first time, causing me to leave a sticky trail of seminal fluid on her. Gina broke our kiss, but maintained eye contact as she lowered her head to my waist and even after she took my dick into her mouth, pushing herself forward until I could feel the head touch the soft back of her throat. She then released me slowly, leaving a thick coat of saliva, which she then used as a lubricant to pump the shaft before devouring me again. My eyes began to water as I struggled to match her gaze as she vigorously went to work on me, sucking and pumping, with no lack of wonderfully nasty sounds. When she slid a finger onto my perineum and began to massage it, I lost the contest and had to throw back my head close my eyes in delirious pleasure. The only thing that stopped me from coming was a brief questioning of just how she acquired these skills to this degree. Nothing like a little double-standard male hardwiring to help maintain discipline. With a bit more control now, I reached down and began to massage her breast and gently pinched her nipple. I then remembered what she’d done to me and then increased the pressure and pulled on it. Gina gave a grunting moan over my dick, which was either pain or pleasure or both. She confirmed the latter when she smiled at me over my dick and winked at me. Wonderfully lewd was a way I’d get used to describing her. Gina stopped blowing me suddenly then kissed me, causing me to taste the pre-cum that had been flowing easily into her mouth. I didn’t flinch. It wasn’t the first time for me. My first snowball (my own cum being spit back into my mouth) had been with Nipple Woman in high school. This was mild in comparison. Gina seemed pleased with my reaction, smiling as she broke away. She then began to recline, pulling me onto her and between her legs. I drew my legs under me into a slightly kneeling position so I could better control my hips and lower back. I began to slide my length up and down her clitoris as we kissed. She gripped my hips and began to match my rhythm. She laughed from her throat as she did it. Never had I met a woman who was so thoroughly into enjoying physical pleasure as Gina. I realized then how much painfully serious collegiate and adolescent sex I’d had up until then. No laughing, and no smiling; just intense gazes, furrowed brows and locked jaws. We were too involved in the business of fucking to have a good time. "Going for another one?" I said, joining in her playfulness. "I haven’t even had one." "I tried, but you just wouldn’t let go. Just for that you can’t come until you’ve fucked me for a long time." "Okay." I then stopped and positioned the head of my dick directly on her clitoris. I rubbed it there for a few moments, causing her to squirm even more before I began to slide myself into her. Gina inhaled as she drew her legs back to allow me in. She was so wet and I was so hard, that I slid in past the soft folds of flesh almost effortlessly, not stopping until our pelvic bones touched softly. I held there for a moment, trying not to let the sensations I’d just experienced make me come right then and there. Gina showed no restraint and kissed me hard as her orgasm washed over her. When done, she exhaled and said, "I’m so glad you’re here." "Likewise," I managed to gasp before kissing her. We held still for long moments before she asked me if I were going to fuck her or take a nap. Experiencing pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, I pulled out of her until just the sensitive head of my dick was still in her, then I tormented myself again with a slow re-entry. I repeated this action with a gradually increasing speed until Gina raised her hips and gripped me and came again. It was then that I learned that the more she cursed me, the more she liked what I was doing. "Fuck you! Fuck!" she gasped through clenched teeth. It was no easier on me, as her pussy tightened around me each time. I could only bury my head in her neck and try to hang on. Once she’d recovered, Gina didn’t wait for me to start up again. She kissed me hard and began to raise her hips to fuck me. If she wanted to work like that, who was I to deny her? I quickly flipped us over to let her have free reign. A small laugh escaped Gina’s throat as she looked down on me. "Bring it on," I taunted. She only smiled and, I swear, gave a little growl. Gina leaned forward, placed her hands flat on my chest for balance and began to raise her hips up and down, grinding her clit against me as she hit bottom. Our eyes locked in another contest of wills: whomever came first, lost, and would essentially be in sexual thrall to the other from that point on. I’d played this game before and never lost, so having Gina as my fuck toy for the next few months was a pleasant thought, especially when I saw her mouth began to quiver and her eyes soften. She was already on the verge of coming again. I was delighted with myself until I saw a touch of sadness in her face that caused a strange pain in my heart. The look was one of regret. Regret that she couldn’t enjoy this they she should and it was my fault for what I’d done to her and had been doing for weeks. From the beginning, Gina had been nothing but direct with me and I’d responded with machinations based purely on my ego. She hadn’t wanted games, but I set them up and she instinctively played to win. It only made sense that she’d seek a little retribution for her wounded ego by not kissing me. It would have and should have ended there, but I’d insisted on starting again in bed. Gina had wanted to please me the same way I’d pleased her, but I’d resisted, making it into another contest of wills. Why? What had I won? The joy of not coming her in her mouth? And now she was again trying to reciprocate pleasure, and again I’d made it into another contest that she would lose. I’d been so busy digging for my ego’s fool’s gold, I’d ignored the diamonds waiting for me on the surface. I took a deep breath and released the my family’s idea that I always had to be in control; that I always had to be one step ahead of the other person, in love and war. For the first time since I was kid, I felt myself relax fully, not worrying about being taken advantage of. In fact I was hoping for it. I immediately felt a new level of pleasure infuse my body that I’d never felt in sex before. My little transformation was noticeable from the outside as well. Gina suddenly stopped moving. "What’s wrong?" she asked? I shook my head, "Nothing. Now, are you gonna make me come or what?" She smiled and resumed her activities in earnest, each downward thrust of her pussy sending tiny electric shocks down through my dick and into my entire body, quickly building to a massive overload. I lifted my head to kiss her and came almost as soon as her lips touched mine. As I let myself go inside her, I couldn’t help but blurt out, "I’m yours. I’m so yours." Apparently I’d relaxed too much. It may have simply been coincidence, but that’s the exact moment she came as well. By the time I grounded myself, successfully fighting off the light-headedness that threatened to steal my consciousness, she’d finished and was kissing my neck softly, murmuring, "You’re mine. You’re mine." Satisfied she was in control, Gina proved to be a wonderful tyrant. It was as though she wanted to prove I’d made the right decision by giving in. As soon as I could feel my legs again, we went into the shower to clean up, where she stood behind me and jerked me off, detailing every single thing we were going to do to one another. It only when she mentioned something about me jerking off all over her face that I lost it and came again. It was just so…wrong, it couldn’t do anything but thrill me to the core. Usually, even the most willing girl makes your wait for a chance at anal sex. It was the third round for us. I don’t think we’d fully dried off yet, before she had my dick back in her mouth to prep me for it. Oddly, Gina liked her sodomy missionary style. I surmised it was some attempt to dilute the sheer nastiness of it with a hint of human interaction, but once I’d fully penetrated her, I realized just how much inside another human being I was for the first time. The heat and closeness of her anal cavity around my dick made it feel twice its normal size. I couldn’t even move. We just held together there, face to face, a new, thin coat of sweat on both our bodies. Gina’s face was unlike any other time I’d ever seen it all evening. She seemed caught between ecstasy and tears; asking and demanding an answer. I gave her the only one I could. I kissed her hard and came again. She cried and I wasn’t sure why. We didn’t have sex again that night. That last one had wiped us both out. Instead, I lavished attention on her with kisses and light touching until she curled up in my chest and went to sleep. The next morning, there was more sex. I awoke to find Gina sitting on me. "So, you liked fucking me in the ass, huh?" were the first words out of her mouth. It immediately made me hard and we went with that. Afterwards, there was the usual giddiness that I’d experienced from others after the first night, but never thought would come from Gina. She eventually put her "tough girl" game face back on, but at any moment would drop it and kiss me in a way that said "romance" not "sex." Nevertheless, she was in full tough girl mode when she told me I had to get rid of Piper. I was going to do it anyway, but I actually enjoyed letting her think it was for her and her alone. I enjoyed the blowjob she gave me right afterwards even more. We dated through the winter and into the spring, happily humping our brains out, but I realized something was up when she began bringing me and my roommate gifts during her frequent visits. It seems I’d penetrated not just her armor, but her heart. Gina had fallen for me. I think it was because I could so obviously resist, but chose instead to surrender to her and for her. I doubted anyone had ever done that for her before. In her world where strength didn’t exist unless it was used, I was a bright, shining new thing to her. I told myself it was one way at first. Unlike her, my armor was much denser and I’d come from a family that gave up vulnerability to no one, least of all a loved one. Who knew how long she’d have to dig to finally find me? Not very, as it turned out. In the meantime, word had slowly leaked back to her family that she was not only dating a nigger, but a nigger from a family of cops. Gina said nothing to me, but more than once did I arrive to find her crying after a phone call. I knew she’d been fighting with her family over me. On those occasions, the sex was incredibly intense, usually followed by her crying in my arms. My family discovered Gina’s existence thanks to an unannounced visit. At least, that’s what I thought. What I later learned was that they were merely confirming what FBI, intel had reported. I should have realized what was up when my Justice Department cousin was suddenly visiting me along with my dad---and they were all smiles. Initially, I thought it was a nice front in the face of a new girlfriend, but in retrospect I realize I was more than a little lost in the initial infatuation as well. At no other time would they have slipped by my radar so easily. Even now the thought of their smiles burns me. For her part, Gina was polite, but there was a coldness there that couldn’t be denied and she literally stayed in the bathroom until they left. Too many search warrants in her childhood and god knows how many arrests, had left her with a bad taste in her mouth for Johnny Law. I finally pulled my head out of my ass on a visit home. They were all being oddly nice to me, actually questioning me about my film studies. That’s when I knew something was up. Only my mother would ask about Gina. They never did. It wasn’t until halfway through the spring semester that the bomb dropped. They were using me to spy on Gina’s family. Since they knew I’d never do it, they didn’t ask and just bugged me outright. I made the mistake of telling my mom I was going to meet Gina’s family for the first time the following week. Almost immediately, my family paid me a visit. They slipped bugs into almost everything they believed I’d be taking with me to Gina’s home; my shoes, my bags, everything. It seems Little Mikey had the best bug sweepers money could buy and had successfully prevented the Feds from ever catching him on tape. That record ended with my weekend visit. Sometime during the weekend, Little Mikey made the mistake of talking about family business next to a pair of my shoes. The next thing he knows, he’s on the front page under Federal indictment. I didn’t see much of Gina after that. Not even emails could be exchanged. The family lawyer forbade any family contact with the outside world. Especially me. It was inevitable that it would come out how they’d gotten the wiretaps in, and even though it was obviously without my knowledge, Gina was furious. Not just at me, but at herself. She’d gone against her family for me and it might wind up destroying them. This is when the sum total of my feelings for Gina were realized. The pain she must be feeling and my unwitting part in it came crashing down on me like an enormous weight. I would die to make it go away for her. I was in love. I was also forbidden by my family to speak to anyone, much less her. My father’s idea of consolation was to tell me that, since she’d done nothing wrong, she wouldn’t suffer as the rest of her family went down. I looked into a face that mirrored my own and only saw a stranger. I actually contemplated killing him. Finally, Gina got word to me through, of all people, my roommate. Apparently his drug contacts were finally of use. She wanted to see me, but stressed that I had to be alone. I knew I’d be tailed, but was surprised at how easily I was able to lose them. My cousin the state trooper had taught me all about tailing when I was 14. It was a simple matter of reverse logic to pervert its use. Gina and I met in a small, but clean hotel in upstate New York. I entered the room to find her standing there in a black raincoat that I’d recently seen on the cover of Vogue. A pair of large, black, Jackie O type sunglasses hid her eyes. A delicate sting of pearls encircled her neck, complimenting the matching pair in her ears. Her hair was now cut short into a sophisticated bob. All of this was ordered, no doubt, by the family lawyer to project a more sophisticated image for the family. Kennedy, not Corleone, was the word of the day, so Gina’s "Manhattan Slut" look had to go. She’d always had a perfect manicure and pedicure, but now they were with subdued colors, rather than the metallic finishes we both loved. When I moved in to kiss her, she turned her head, so I softly kissed her cheek. In a halting voice that was unlike her, Gina explained to me that while she didn’t blame me for what had happened to her family, she could no longer see me, no matter what the verdict. "So why am I here?’ I asked. Gina took a step back from me and removed her raincoat. She was naked underneath. I felt my heart break. This was truly goodbye. My head dropped with the weight of my pain and I made no attempt to raise it. When the tears began to fall, it was as though each of them added another ten pounds. Gina took my face in her hands, raised it and kissed me deeply. I responded with more passion than I thought I was capable of. As we kissed, she went about the business of removing my clothing, as if she knew I was incapable of doing it myself. Once I was fully nude, Gina lay back on the queen sized bed with her legs spread, her perfect wax ever-present, though she’d taken to letting it grow a little thicker, just for me. I moved between her legs and kissed her while she guided me inside her. The only thing more surprising than my erection was how wet she was. Given the circumstances, how could we be doing this? Gina wrapped her legs around my back and pulled me fully into her. Her face was in my chest and she began to kiss and bite my nipples. Using just my lower back and hips, I began to fuck Gina slowly and intensely. We grunted and moaned into each other’s mouths as we kissed, sliding from position into position, until we wound up back in missionary, now drenched in each other’s sweat. It was as though we were trying to run through the future the world had snatched from us. The French call an orgasm, "le petite morte." The little death. I finally understood that expression that afternoon, as my coming meant the end of my time with Gina and felt like I was dying. My cry of passion as I came inside her gave way simply to crying and I buried my face in her neck. Gina as no better, but despite this, or even because it, she slid from under me almost immediately and ran crying into the bathroom. Once I composed myself somewhat, I rose to go to her. Just as I reached the bathroom, she came out, no longer crying, but with a strange look on her face. "You know I love you, don’t you?" Gina said in a tone I still can’t describe. "I love you too." To this day I wonder if this is what got me shot or stopped me from being killed. Before I knew it, Gina raised her hand with a flash of silver and fired two shots into my chest. It was like someone punched me twice, while simultaneously sticking me with two red hot pokers that left burning drills in my chest. The impact knocked me over the bed and onto the floor. Gina came over and pointed the gun at my head. I knew I was going to die, but all I could think was how much I wanted to make her pain go away. She mush as seen it in my face, because she lowered the gun, kissed me, then put on her coat and left. Once I realized that my wounds weren’t immediately mortal, I called 911. My dad wound up being the first person to arrive. He’d been in the area searching for me once I lost my tail. The look on his face when he found me there naked, laying on a carpet stained with my own blood, was of slightly amused contempt. Needless to say, the media went crazy once it got out. The Justice Department was no better, thinking they finally had a was to break Little Mikey---until I refused to testify against her. In fact, I denied even meeting Gina there, or that she’d shot me. It didn’t matter what the hotel clerk saw. Without me, they had nothing. My father’s obscenity laced tirade about how I’d embarrassed my family and how he’d wished she’d killed me so he could at least mourn me was the last time we ever spoke. They didn’t need me anyway. Once he learned what his daughter had done, Little Mikey decided to take a deal from the government in exchange for them not charging her. Not that they could find her. Gina was on a plane out of the country within hours of shooting me. As it turned out, Little Mikey had throat cancer and died less than two years later. His brother "Big Petey" took over and nothing changed. Once I got out of the hospital, I transferred to the West Coast to live with my mother’s family and enrolled in UCLA’s Film School, but that didn’t last. After everything I’d been through, films seemed silly an I wound up graduating with a degree in History. In a move that surprised even me, I became a cop in San Francisco. I walked the beat for a few years before going to law school and becoming a prosecuting attorney. My family and I still don’t speak, though. Only my mother and I remain close. I haven’t had a successful relationship in the years since Gina. Eventually, it comes down to the gunshot wounds. I won’t explain them or discuss them if the person knows. This, of course, means I’m incapable of truly sharing myself and it ends soon after that. They’re right in a way. I do feel these scars belong to Gina and me and I won’t share them with anyone else. Gina wound up settling in Europe. I don’t know where, but I could easily find out. Her family is still under investigation so Interpol still keeps an eye on her, even though they know she’s not involved. Once I pulled a surveillance photo of her off the database. In it, she’s actually smiling. It’s good to know she learned how to do that again. I’ve no doubt she still thinks of me. You don’t shoot your lover and forget about it, but I’m sure she doesn’t want to see me again. Ironically, she’d moved away from her family in the way they’d always intended, by doing something they never wanted her to do, while I’d become just like my family by doing only what I wanted.