To Get A Head

This is my very first adult fanfic, so don't expect much.

It had been six months since Ann Darrow had helplessly watched Kong being executed by the Helldivers and then, in what seemed like slow motion to her devastated body and soul, fall down, down, down, towards the asphalt. She’d been tempted to go join him.
But then her second great hero, Jack, had arrived as if in a dream, and in that instant shown her how deep his love for her truly went. Even more soothingly, his actions that day had told her, more powerfully then words ever could, that the concept of finding lasting love in this cold world wasn’t just some opiate dream.
She’d seized onto him like a drowning woman, and hours later gone with Jack to the apartment that Ann would end up calling home. Neither of them would, could ever be exactly the same after Skull Island and Kong’s escape. But there was a real, profound wisdom to the maxim that life goes on, and all things heal in time, both of them discovered to their amazement. She would always still be forced to live with the scars; but thank God, at least the memories weren’t open wounds anymore.
Jack’s love and presence had played an immense part in that healing. As their relationship had developed further, Ann came to a point where there was so much of that mutual love blossoming in her breast that one night she’d joined Jack under the covers. At first, she’d slept alongside him with her clothes on, or at least a robe, and the two of them had been totally content with that.
But one night, Ann had felt that the time, the place, the night, and most of all the man, was right, and she’d passionately offered herself up to the playwright. Neither of them was a virgin by any means. Yet that night, running her willowy hands over Jack’s firm shoulders, sucking wildly at his lips as they ecstatically gasped together in his bed, Ann Darrow literally made love for the first time in her life.
It had been a pleasant, yet confusing shock, to discover how deep her carnal yearnings went after that. She adored Jack’s words, his voice, his courage, his eyes, his respectful, gentle ways, but she loved his body almost as deeply.
Now, on this July night, she watched, propped up on knees and elbows, as that body lifted up the thin sheets on their bed and took his place next to hers. “You managing to stay cool in this heat sweetheart?” Jack asked her as he reached out to turn off the lamp. They were both plunged into darkness, accented only by the soft white gold rays of the gaslights that filtered through the bedroom blinds.
Smiling, Ann nodded as she told him, “It’s hard, but I’m doing just fine,” as she ran her hand over Jack’s shoulder and down his chest, inhaling the musky, sharp aroma of sweat and feeling the fabric of his undershirt as he tenderly clasped her form to his. “But you know what Jack?” she whispered.
“What?” he breathed into her ear.
“I’d like to make the night a little hotter,” she replied, her hand sliding downwards along his ribcage to lightly pluck at the top of his boxer shorts.
He understood her intentions perfectly, and Ann sensed Jack’s body collectively tensing up as he gave a quick, excited intake of breath. Giving her a glided, shrewd yet regretful smile, he responded, “Normally I’d be more than willing to fool around with you darling. But not tonight Josephine,” he yawned, causing Ann’s ardent heart to fall in disappointment.
“But Jack, why not? I only want to love you, for the two of us to join together,” she implored, running her fingers under his chin.
“I know, and I’d love so, so, much to do that with you. But Ann, you know that I’ve had a devil of a time getting that fourth act completed. And tomorrow, I’ve got to see my editor and present the manuscript to him. We might be meeting together for half the day, maybe longer.” His broad catcher’s mitt hand reached out in the faint light to wrap around the back of her head and comfortingly comb through her curls. The touch only made her want him even more as Jack continued, “I’m sorry doll, but I need my shut-eye tonight if I’m going to function in the morning. We can make love tomorrow night, I promise.”
Crestfallen, Ann felt herself slump in disappointment against her flame’s muscular chest. The rational part of her understood very well what Jack’s reasons for denying intimacy were. The emotional part though, saw it as nothing other than a harsh, cruel rejection. “Please,” she begged in a last, stubborn, futile request, “love me in some way Jack. My heart is so full for you it feels like it’ll burst if something isn’t done!”
There was a silence, and even though Ann’s eyes were clenched shut, she could sense Jack’s green ones gazing, considering, turning something over in his brain. “Ann,” he said thoughtfully, “we’ve been having conventional sex until now. Would you like to try something different, something more…exotic in nature tonight?”
This piqued Ann’s interest. “Exotic?” she replied doubtfully, drawing herself up to look into Jack’s angular face. It was an unexpected proposition, frankly a little shocking. And she wasn’t nearly so ignorant as to not see the text between the lines.
During all the years of living a hardscrabble life, all those sessions of jaw-flapping she’d partaken in with her theatre friends and companions at the Women’s Missions, Ann had discovered more about the range of sexual positions a dame could take with her partner than she’d ever wanted to know. The idea that Jack, so well-bred and mannerly, would desire to indulge in such types of acts himself was hard for her to fully believe. “What do you have in mind?” she breathed out.
Jack’s expression was placidly neutral. “Fellatio.”
“Isn’t that where the woman opens her…and the man sticks his…”
“Yeah. I’ve done it a few times before, and it feels wonderful. I think the broads liked it too,” Jack stated, lips parting in a crooked grin as he reached out to fondle her breasts.
“You have no shame at all, huh Jack?” Ann asked in amazement, sitting up to put her arms akimbo.
“No, I have none whatsoever, at least when the lights go out,” he lightheartedly quipped as his teeth flashed white. Abruptly, he sat erect with the speed of a cat, reaching out to grasp her wrists with one hand and clasping her around the shoulders with the other. Bending his face to hers so that his great Roman nose rubbed against her cheek, the playwright huskily droned, “Do you?”
Part of Ann’s mind was reeling at the very idea of committing such an act. To bend down and take Jack’s phallus into her mouth-how horribly revolting! It was bestial, indecent in every sense of the word. And yet, the majority of Ann still wanted, longed to share her body with Jack Driscoll’s in any way she could. Besides, despite her demure, virtuous nature, her bosom still contained Eve’s impulse to taste of that luscious forbidden fruit. He was a virile, satisfying man, so why not literally taste of that virility?
Sucking spit once in a gulp, she earnestly responded, “No more than you do in the end Jack.”
Beaming widely in delight, Jack told her, “Then let’s get out from under these covers and our clothes…and dive into some forbidden pleasures,” Ann strangely aware of how warm his hand was as their fingers locked and he steered her out of bed.
He backed out and stood erect, his tanned skin and the golden veneer of the lights outside making him look like a bronze statue. Resting her weight on his forearms, Ann slipped off the mattress in turn and ran her hand across the length of his collarbone.
Kneading the hollow of Jack’s throat with her fingertips, she commented, “Now you’ll have to sit down again, my lover boy,” as her other hand cupped the bulge in his boxers.
“Not so fast. Let’s make this first one memorable,” Jack advised her even as his own hand teasingly squeezed one of her buttocks. “I’d find it terribly attractive,” he seductively growled, “if you put on some eyeliner and rouge first. No lipstick allowed though,” he quipped, causing Ann to giggle. “Then once my actress is made up and disrobed, I’ll be waiting for her cue, with the armchair as our stage.”
“As you like it director,” she sultrily conceded before trotting to their bathroom, her body almost vibrating with red, fervent intensity. Ann felt like she was going to explode from need as she used her fingertips to apply the rouge to her cheeks, and it was all she could do to keep her trembling hand still while she swiped the small brush of color over her eyelids. She managed to stay fairly steady though over the intervening three minutes, her desire to look superb for Jack Driscoll tethering her id just enough.
When it was done, Ann stood up, stepped back, and sighed in gratification at what she saw in the mirror. Her makeup was stunning. She felt stunning. Wasting no time, she unfastened her satin sleeping robe and let it fall like a silken sail to the tiled floor. She shed her slip right after, pulling it over her flushed body in reverse and feeling her hair spread out briefly while she tossed the garment away. Fumbling fingers reached down to grasp at the tap pants with their lace borders, and the striptease was complete.
Taking a deep breath and drawing her petite frame high, Ann fleetingly regarded her nude form in the mirror before turning on her heel and exiting. In the living room, the soft illumination of a lamp revealed Jack’s lanky form as he sat naked in their sepia brown armchair. Putting one sleek foot in front of the other, Ann took on a seductive gait as she approached.
With a skewed smirk that so elegantly exuded machismo, Jack ran his eyes over her twice before saying jokingly, “The emperor’s decided to wear his new clothes on the throne tonight.”
“And his queen comes to pay him homage,” Ann replied, feeling her mouth corners being tugged by a devilish mirth as she came forward and knelt between Jack’s casually parted legs.
“I think she looks devastatingly beautiful in her makeup,” he complimented. Dropping the theatrics, he asked her simply, “Are you ready to start? You call the shots, so don’t ever feel forced Ann,” he assured her, even as his voice sang with eagerness.
A little unsure, Ann nodded before returning her attention to Jack’s privates. At the Lyric Theater, there had been one time when after seeing a performance of Condescension, she’d shown her fellow performers a playbill graced by Jack’s photo.
On seeing it, Clara, one of the acrobats, had rather hurtfully remarked in disgust that this man had the biggest, most blatant eyesore of a nose she’d ever put her blinkers on. Not missing a beat, Lillian had shot back with the ribald rejoinder that the bigger a man’s nose was, the longer a certain part of his anatomy too.
Although she couldn’t claim that it held true for all men, Ann could certainly attest now that the theory held quite true when it came to Jack at least. Her playwright was very, very, well endowed.
Reaching forward, Ann felt the curled hairs of his bush lightly rasping against the side of her right hand as she took the shaft of Jack’s impressive penis in her fingers. She knew that this was filthy, utterly perverted. But oh God, didn’t it feel good!
Bending her head, she flicked her golden curls back before sliding her lips over Jack’s dick. It felt hot and doughy and wonderfully alive in her mouth as she began to greedily nurse at the member, giving the shaft short, quick, excited pulses with her fingers.

Ann's sucking off of Jack will conclude in its spermy glory in the next chapter folks.