We are on your marriage bed, catching our breath after a wonderful 69 feast, with you drinking my cock and me relishing your wet cunt and lovely ass, having just broken our hungry kiss where we have shared the musky taste of my cum.
You lie beside me now, turning to me and smiling, “We’re not done by half you know, I have an antique boudoir couch in the next room. You’re going to fuck me for a long time there and I’m going to milk every drop of your balls!”
I grin with delight and reply, “Let’s go…”
The French Empire style boudoir couch is sumptuously appointed: covered with a rich burgundy with gold threaded pin dots. You lead me into the elegantly designed room, rich with a Chinese rug and Audubon engravings. I am distracted only briefly by your sense of style. Perhaps this room is your sanctuary, devoid of the edgy modern art around the rest of the house. I don’t have long to reflect, as I am being led by the hand to the waiting couch. We are both quite naked now, wandering through our paradise without shame or fig leaves, and you lay me down with my back braced up against the curving upholstery.
“I’m going to ride every damn drop of lovely cum out of you now,” you grin, “you’re at my mercy and I’m not going to release you until your balls run dry!”
I throw back my head and laugh, “Mount up, Madame,” I say with an appropriate French accent, “ride on to ze finish line!”
You straddle my already restored and erect cock, no need for further foreplay, and laugh out, “Giddy-up, Monsieur! Fill me to the brim!” You ride me like an expert equestrian, your knees deep into the cushioned chaise and your ass rising and falling with a determination you haven’t felt in coitus for years, my delicious cock rising ever more as you spur me into a daze of passion.
I reach up my hands and cup your lovely breasts, just a handful apiece but so natural and more real to me than any more amply endowed partner before. I start to tease and gently squeeze your nipples, circling your areoles and watching your nips harden like a cold wave has blown down from British Columbia. You gasp a little at my attentions, smiling into a Cheshire Cat grin of delight. I start to milk your tits and you push down on my pelvis like I’m your saddle, relishing the length of my cock.
“Pinch me HARDER!!!” You cry out, “Pinch HARD!!!”
I put my fingers around the nubs of your nipples and squeeze them like I’m trying to pinch them off, you take your breath in quickly and breathe in and out fast three or four times.
“Yes!” You cry out, tossing your head back so hard the last remnants of your coiffure collapse into a shower of kinky curls around your shoulders. “Don’t stop that, you’re gonna make me cum so hard if you keep that up!”
“My God where has this woman been hiding?” I ask to myself. You have my head in the cosmos and I can hear the music of the spheres, your lovely body a sacrament of a mystical experience. I realize I am so excited I am going to lose it soon. “Shit!” I think, “I’m such a wuss! Think of baseball or my ugly Beatrice, who always insisted on kissing me on the lips with her red lipstick and gross turquoise furniture!”
My cock relaxes just a bit and you look at me, concerned, “You’re not losing your stiffie are you?” You smirk, redoubling your efforts riding me up and down like a jockey.
I resume my higher state of excitement and feel myself throb inside you. Your velvet pussy contracts in response, (jeez she’s good!) I haven’t a such an exciting fuck since high school when I snuck off with my dad’s VW van to Council Crest and deflowered my first girlfriend. It’s like you’re my first all over again and I feel like I’m 16 and immortal. I return with enthusiasm to your tits, squeezing your nipples with redoubled enthusiasm. Your cunt is starting to cycle into waves like an incoming tide, undulating along my cock with the dexterity of a hundred fingers teasing me, If you cum I don’t think I will be able to withstand your flood and I’m sure I will spurt up into your cervix with an irresistible force.
You realize that with all the other unconscious yet deliberate preparations that you made for our liaison you haven’t taken the step of inserting your diaphragm before fucking me, and I’m obviously not wearing a condom, like any of that matters anymore. You quickly count and realize you might be more fertile than a field today and you just don’t care. You haven’t gotten pregnant even when you lied about wearing your diaphragm and secretly wanted it, and realize what a turn-on it would be to fuck me with my seed growing in you, your growing abdomen like a lovely globe of a new planet and your tits swollen with nourishment. You feel the waves increase in your cervical muscles and lose yourself in the coming tsunami, feeling your delightful hair brush your shoulders in abandon and feeling my pelvis tense and my back arch up like the Fremont Bridge.
I fountain into you with abandon, grunting like a bull in heat mounting a new heifer. The streams of my cum fill you up and you feel the heat of my body fluids warm your inner passages. My swimmers are determined to leave no channel unfilled and they flow up inside you like the water bursting from a broken earthen dam. Splashing up against your shores and flooding back, streams of my seed begin to dribble down from your incredibly wet cunt, your moisture washing down my shaft and mingling with mine.
You realize you’re going to have to have a professional clean the upholstery on your antique couch. God, you spent a fortune on the new fabric and yet you’re smiling at the crumbs you’re leaving to mark the journey of our passion through the house.
I’m beginning to shrink inside you in the afterglow, and you wish it had lasted longer, but you also realize that I recovered quickly from my last orgasm and you’re sure you can shorten my turn-around time. As my head slips out of you, followed by a flood, and flops on your right thigh, you pivot off me and immediately bend down to drink my cum off my cock. I’m surprised at how quickly I respond to your renewed hunger.
You slip your mouth off my cock for just a moment, a trail of your saliva and my last orgasm dripping in an arc from the tip of my head to your glistening lips, “Don’t get comfortable, Mr. Real Estate Professional,” you smirk, having the time of your life, “This is going to last well into the night. All my family are out of town on business and no one will even notice if I tie you up in the basement all night!”
You redouble your efforts on my stiffening cock, as I reply, “Are you going to make this an Air B&B instead of listing this on the market now?” My right eyebrow rises in question.
You shake your head, taking my cock side to side (OH GOD!) then you break your sucking and grin, “No B&B, you fucker, maybe a B&F!”
“B&F?” I ask with affected naiveté.
“Bed and FUCK, you FOOL! And you haven’t even seen half of the house! I’m going to have you inspect every other room in this pitiful house until you’re all mine!” Your boldness and voracious hunger surprise you more than me, but you are relishing in your burning lust. The sex is SO GOOD. Nothing seems wrong at all! Maybe this is what you always dreamed a true connection felt like! Yeah, you know it’s just for the day, but your driving desire still holds back the sun.
You are sucking and taking me up and down in your mouth with real talent now. Your mouth pivots my head around the base of my shaft; my cock head feels like a tether ball wrapping around and back a central pole, let by the rolling suction of your lips and tongue, You know I’m going to cum soon if you keep this up, but you want more of me pumping into you below.
“Okay,” you stand up, “On your feet, fucker!”
I obey, and you place my hands on your hips as you climb onto the boudoir couch placing your hands on the corner curves and bend over. “Fuck me doggie style,” you look back over your shoulder, “And SLAP that naughty ass! I’ve been a BAD girl today and I need to be SPANKED!!!”
Seeing an antique yardstick in the corner, with a bronze metal edge, I grin like a demon, “You’ve been SO BAD! You’re going to hurt for a week!”
The ruler comes down, surprising you with my harshness. You flinch a bit, but say “Yes! That’s it! More! Punish me! I’m such a bad girl!” I toss the ruler aside, knowing this will hurt my hand as much as your sweet ass:
I can see my fingerprints on your lovely ass, knowing you’ll remember me every time you sit down for days. I take my shaft, and find your dripping, eager, cunt. You back in as I thrust, and once again the velvet glove if your wet pussy engulfs my rod. We find our rhythms quickly, this is an art form we are mastering with finesse. I straddle the fainting couch, pushing as deeply into you as I can, already feeling our mixed fluids from your last ride, your lovely ass reminding me of my first sight of you bending over in the kitchen, though your nakedness is more beautiful and glorious.
You’re breathing deeply and rocking back and forth quickly, your breath is becoming more shallow and desperate and I know I might be able to just tip you over with a little more play. I bend over your ass and back and reach around to you tits, bounching back and forth with the pumping of your body, I reach down and cup your luscious wonders, pulling your globes close to your chest and finding your nipples between my first and second fingers on each hand. Pinching them again softly and then harder still, I hear you smile through your breathlessness and you say, “Oh, yes you know what I want!”
All our designs to savor this moment melt into a cloud of passion. Having squeezed your amazing tits, an electric pulse has run down your abdomen and straight up your wet cunt, and your orgasm builds again, with determination and irresistibility. Ripples of pleasure cascade down my cock and your wetness flows over my balls now.
My orgasm can’t resist your invitation to push up into you again, I can’t believe I have anything left in my balls! Shuddering into you with what feels like cups of cum shots, my knees are week as I cling to your torso and plow my last seed into your fertile body. You twist toward me and lean back on the chaise, while I approach your dripping pussy to lick up the leftovers.
You reach for my head and drink in my harvest from your wetness, savoring in our wet, sticky kisses and drinking me in deeply to the point of intoxication.
“We don’t have to just drink this fun cocktail you know,” you chuckle, full of sex and more desire, “We have a rack of fine NW pinto downstairs, with the pantry and the washing center. There’s an art studio there too!”
“Great!” I respond, “because a masterpiece like you needs to be painted! Let’s clean up a bit and head down to make you a work of art!”
Continues with part 3…