Delicious, sweet, early-morning, gushy gooey yummy sex.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
5:30 AM. Sound asleep, and Monsieur woke me up by pulling my toes. I sat up with a start, worried, I guess that there was a weather emergency or something. I hadn’t slept well since the storm (Rita) started for the Texas coast and I had been asleep since the moment I got home from my waitressing job. He put his finger to his lips then to mine and motioned for me to get out of bed. I followed, obediently. Littlest Boy was sound asleep in the big bed.
Monsieur held my hand and walked me to my old room, what will be Littlest Boy’s room once he can sleep all by himself. I pretended to be sleepy and said, “What is it?” just so I could hear him say it.
“I want to make love with you,” he whispered.
“You do? Are you sure?”
“Oh yes,” he almost moaned, then pressed his body into mine.
My arms wrapped around him. “I’ve wanted you so much, Monsieur,” I whimpered, “so badly. I didn’t know if you wanted me anymore.”
“I’m so sorry [Yearning Heart], that I have been ignoring you. My heart has been tossing back and forth. I miss ‘Maggie’ and I feel like I am being unfaithful to her when I want you in this way.”
“Hush,” I whispered, “you’re still a man and you have needs. Just let me take care of them.”
I undressed him and slipped out of my jammies. “How do you want me?” I asked.
He gave a little laugh. “I am not particular,” he replied.
I stroked him; it was like an iron bar, so hard. I could feel my desire, like a living thing, inside me. I knelt down and took some of it into my mouth, as much as I could, my jaw stretched open wide. He gasped.
I looked up at him and knew I couldn’t even come close to taking him into my throat. “Maggie” used to brag how she could. She seemed like such a tiny woman. I admired her even more for her ability.
Resolving to be the second-best fuck that Monsieur ever had, I pulled off of his cock and knelt on the bed, bending over and spreading myself for him. I reached back and took his cock in my hand, pulling him to my sex and rubbing it up and down my folds. Then I let go of it and spread myself open with my fingers. “Please, now, in,” I whispered. He pressed it into me. I heard him gasp again and it sent a shiver up my spine. “All the way. Please,” I begged.
It started its long journey, tunneling into me. It felt like a living thing, which, I suppose, it was. Stretching me. Plowing me. It hurt a little – ok a lot – but I wanted it.
I cried out then bit the pillow. He stopped. “Am I hurting you? I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly.
“Please, Monsieur, please, please take me,” I almost cried. I reached under me and held his balls in my hand, then I rubbed myself hard, in circles, with the tips of my fingers.
He held onto my hips and resumed going in again. My mind was going blank with the sensation, my nipples like burning points of steel and my body blushing crimson. “Oh, oh, I love you,” I blurted out.
He moaned and pulled my hips closer to him. I heard his breath catch then he began the rhythm of fucking me. It felt divine. I wanted him to use me for his pleasure, pull me hard and slam into me. He was so gentle, though. It was almost enough.
“Is that all of it?” I asked.
“No, it is most of it,” he said, pausing to breathe.
“I want it all, you know I can take it,” I whispered.
He held on to me and lifted my hips up, then slowly inched it into me, my sex widening as it stretched to accommodate him. I felt my cervix getting bumped and I started with the pain.
“Ahh!” I gasped.
“Let’s stop a second,” he suggested.
“No. Fucking. Way,” I said, gritting my teeth. I can do this, I said to myself, and imagined my sex was a flower, a tightly packed orchid, blooming, opening up, for Monsieur. I rubbed myself again, then began to rock on my hips.
“Oh, my love,” he cried softly. I was tight; I could feel the heat from the friction. It was delicious. He began to fuck me again, in spite of himself. I could feel the sensation build up, in my womb, spreading over my body.
“More,” was all I could say.
I could sense that his body was taking over. I surrendered to him utterly, biting the pillow and moaning to obliterate the pain of his thick cock plowing into me. Then it hit me suddenly.
“I’m coming – ahh!” was all the warning I could give him.
“Yes, my love,” he gasped and I felt the splash of his seed filling me, completely, bathing my sex and then running out of it. His hands found my breasts and pulled them, squeezing them as his rhythm picked up speed, and I felt another one rising up and consuming me. Sweet, sweet orgasm.
I must have blacked out. I could feel my senses returning, and when my eyes could focus again, he was laying beside me and holding me. I asked him if he’d had enough.
“Do you want more?” he asked.
“No, love, I’m fine. But there is more if you do.”
“I am sated I think,” he said, then laughed and muttered something in French.
Did I mention “delicious”?
Oh, and “yum!”