those details

It’s kinda hard getting used to the idea that I’m really Monsieur’s. His attitude towards me has changed, especially when we’re alone. He smiles more, and he gives me little kindnesses. Today he was very sweet and attentive.

The boys are the same: no change there. Bigglest Boy is struggling with doing his homework. Middlest Boy is struggling with reading. Littlest Boy is trying to sleep through the night without intervention.

They have so much energy! They wear me out. The bigger two go to a cooperative school, and they come home every afternoon at 3:00 PM ready to rock and roll. I try to keep them busy with plenty of running-through-the-woods time, and also take care of their snacks and reading materials. Twice a week it’s soccer practice, and I run them like coyotes.

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OK, by request, a brief detail of Tuesday night’s love fest is in order. I can’t remember details too specific because I usually need to write things down right after they happen:

You remember last time, I’m sure. Monsieur had me in his arms.

I kissed him, and asked if he wanted to take me either upstairs, in the master bed, or right here on the kitchen table.

He said that I was incorrigible. “So spank me, if I’m so bad,” I said.

“I might, if you are every bad, and you think it might help,” he said.

I stood up and tugged him up to his feet. We settled on the couch in the living room, and I undid my blouse, letting it fall open.

It was a fun, liberating feeling to know that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I liked feeling like I belonged. I sat next to him and kissed him. He was passionate, but patient. For a long time, we only kissed, and he held me. I wanted more, but he seemed to want me to set the pace.

That was only slightly irritating.

He kisses really well. His hands were on my shoulders and in my hair, his tongue and lips were teasing me. I moved to his lap and he held me there. My legs were astride his waist, and it all felt good.

I tried to tease him, too.

My hands were running up and down his chest. I moaned softly as his lips played with mine. My nails ran over his neck and through his hair. He was so patient, so calm, but I needed to know he was enjoying. My hands went to his pajamas and I felt along his inseam. Geez, he was rock freaking hard. Feeling that, thick & stiff, I was like a shark who was tasting blood in the water. I felt myself go into a frenzy; my mouth watered and my lips pursed almost involuntarily. I had an urgent need to suck his cock.

I slipped my blouse off, my shorts, too, and knelt at his feet, rubbing my lips over the bulge in his trousers. I looked up and he was smiling at me, but silent – usually when I was doing that to a guy I got begging, pleading, gasps and groans. He was still silent – but I could feel his pulse through his pants. Kneeling, dressed only in my underwear, I unzipped him and unbuttoned his shirt. He helped by standing and slipping his shirt off; I almost frantically got his pants down and off, kneeling in front of him. I smiled up at him and started licking his cock, holding It in one hand.

I’ve always prided myself on my tongue technique.

My tongue ran around his cock head in slow, easy circles; my hand, not able to fully circle the base, stroked and cupped. I smiled, feeling warm all over.

I got him to sit on the couch and I sucked the head of his cock into my lips. His hand played with my hair, keeping it off of my face. I stretched my lips as far as they could go, willing my throat to open, but it wouldn’t do. I couldn’t get half of It in, and I really tried.

“He reached up behind him to turn off the lamp by the couch…”

He pulled me up to kiss my face and neck, and he murmured something in French. He reached up behind him to turn off the lamp by the couch; I sat on his lap as he teased my skin with his lips, his tongue and his teeth. He kissed my collarbone and down my chest. He left a ring of sugar-kisses around each nipple, and stroked my dewy slit as he turned my body around to kiss down my belly. He was on top of me, kissing me, down my belly, across my panty-clad vulva, past it, teasing it, shaming it to move on to my legs. His hands were around me and pulled my hips to line his face up with my pussy. His cock pointed down towards my face. I smiled and took It in my hands, licking and stroking. Right in the middle of a long and delicious lick on his cock, he pulled my panties off, his mouth pressed into my slit and opened it, and his thick tongue slid into me.

“His hands were around me and pulled my hips to line his face up with my pussy.”

I gasped. It was as though he had poured fire into me. His tongue moved in circles, figure-eights, spiraling in and slowly withdrawing to tease my clit. He took his time. He opened me up for his face and then pressed his open mouth to me, flicking and sucking in slow, easy delicious movements. I forgot all about his cock and arched my back, lifting my hips, spreading myself open and giving it to him. My clitoris pulsed with wonderful sensations; he rubbed his tongue over it briefly and I cried out, then I realized my mouth was empty and sucked his thick cock head back into it. I could feel myself melting.

“Monsieur,” I gasped. “Oh… oh, Monsieur.” I felt heat rising from my pussy to my chest, and looked down and say the flush spreading over me from my belly up to my neck. My freckles disappeared, I was so red. He reached for my breasts, I arched my back, he toyed with my hardened rubbery nipples…

…and I came, drenching his face as I moaned.

“Fuck, oh fuck, oh … fuck me. Fuck me ‘till I cry,” I begged.

He finished me off, licking his lips then he picked me up, turned me over and pulled me up to kiss him on his face. His tongue teased mine then plunged into my mouth; I sucked it greedily, tasting every bit of myself on his tongue.

“I want you so badly, Monsieur,” I told him.

He smiled. “I’m right here,” he murmured, patiently. He held my waist and I positioned his erection against my slit. Having practiced a few times, I willed myself to relax; imagined my vulva opening like a flower, clenching it, then relaxing it, then I got up on my feet and squatted, pushed Its tip inside me, and lowered my hips to meet his. It bored Its way up, deep, thick, burning hot; I lowered myself slowly but steadily, taking him all in

One

Smooth

Stroke.

My eyes blurred then cleared. I looked down at where were joined. My pussy stretched around the base of his cock, the tissue straining but with no sensation of pain; certainly nothing I couldn’t handle.

Triumph.

I let my legs stretch out in front of me and began to rock on him.

Words fail me when I try to describe the feeling of being completely full like this. I could feel every nerve down there. I could feel myself gushing on it; I could feel the roundness of the head of his cock as It pressed Its way into me, spreading me open, deeper than anyone has ever been. I could feel the vein under the shaft, the pulse running through; I bet if I had enough sense in my head I could have counted his pulse. But my consciousness began to leave me, and my mind gave way as my body assumed control and I rocked back and forth on him, arching my back, squeezing my breasts, stealing one hand down to rub myself.

I enjoyed myself.

I remember at some point he turned me over, whispering in my ear that he needed to take me selfishly, and for me to give myself to him. I nodded, tears in my eyes, as I bent over the couch and spread my legs. I hugged a pillow in the dark as he took me, gently at first, then with a passion that was almost cruel. My mind swam and my eyes went dark again. I could sense him starting to come and I held on to the couch, begging him to fuck me hard, harder, make it hurt me.

His hands held on to my ass, pulling my cheeks apart and he buried It in me … then he paused. I knew what was building up inside of him and he held he close for a moment, then quietly roared, gasped, and leaned over and bit my neck as I felt a quick convulsion run though his body, then that delicious *splash!!* inside me, and he resumed pounding me, our body slapping together as he almost cried and held on, hammering into me and hissing through his teeth, biting his lip, biting my neck, pulling my hair and then hugging me to him, his hands on my shoulders, then around my waist … then he slowed to a gentle rhythm, his balls loose now, his body like an engine slowly winding down, his liquid running down my legs so warm and loving.

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“Do you feel better, Monsieur?” I whispered, giggling.

“Óc, ouais,” he said, lapsing into his Gascogne patois.

“We need to do that a lot,” I said. “Two or three times a week.”

“It would be my death, ma chère,” he protested, still breathing hard.

“But a good way to die, Monsieur,” I said, helpfully. I clenched and he finally slid out of me; I got up, turned around, and he took me in his arms and held me tight.