Friday, July 28, 2006
Well, I haven’t written much.
So you noticed.
I’m busy. Now it’s no longer sufficient to teach the Greek alphabet, we have to actually learn some Greek words. So I’m studying.
There has also been curriculum cleanup and for some reason I can’t connect to the internet sometimes from the school.
But, Monsieur got a car, and now I have the van back. Monsieur transferred the title of the van to me, so I won’t have any trouble if I needed to shop around for another one; I can make whatever decision I need to.
Since the last time I posted, I’ve gotten it from Monsieur once. It was a very quick quickie in the bathroom.
The Three Littlest Boys had sniffles and were tossing and turning a lot. I’d put Very Littlest Boy in the Big Bed as was planning on sleeping upstairs in his bed. Monsieur was in the shower. After getting ready for bed and into my jammie bottoms I opened the shower curtain.
“How hot is it supposed to get tonight? Are you leaving the window open?” I asked him.
“The forecast says 78 F so likely not,” he said.
“OK,” I said, standing there with the shower curtain open.
“Is that all?” he asked after a few moments.
“No,” I said. “[Littlest Boy] is in our bed, so I’m going to sleep upstairs so I’m less likely to catch whatever’s going around. You can sleep with me too, but it’s a twin bed.”
“I think I should sleep downstairs in case he has trouble breathing in the night,” Monsieur said.
“All right,” I said. I stood there, holding the shower curtain open. I watched the water streaming down his chest hairs, making patterns. There was a stream of water pouring through his pubes and dripping off of his heavy, swinging cock’s head. I licked my lips.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“Well,” I said, “I hope you don’t think it too crude of me, but do you think you could possibly give me that tonight?”
“I could but you’re very tired, remember. You stayed up quite late the past two nights.”
“When I do that, Monsieur, I think it would be helpful if you could give me sex, because that’s usually why I can’t sleep.”
He closed the shower curtain somewhat abruptly.
I went upstairs, cleaned up the clutter in Littlest Boy’s room and changed the sheets. He came in when I was folding the bedspread.
I smiled at him.
“It’s odd, for me, to feel romantic in the boy’s room,” he said quietly.
I turned out the lights. “You can pretend it’s my room and I’m a college student and you’re my sociology professor and I’m trying to keep up my grade point average – “
He laughed. “None of your roleplay for me, angel, as I am not one of Lady Ann’s Brothel’s patrons, and I think what I have here is fantasy enough.”
I slipped his boxers down.
“No kiss?” he asked.
“Don’t complain,” I said, stroking him and moving to the bed. “You’re a parent in a house with three sick kids, and all this could end at any moment.”
“’All this could end at any moment,’” he laughed. “Don’t use that line on me; that’s the line that I used on Lebanese women in the ‘80s.”
“Did it work?” I asked, kneeling and taking him with my tongue.
“Usually nothing worked, so eventually I resorted to doing nothing.”
“That works with me,” I admitted. “When you do nothing with me it makes me want you like crazy.”
I went back to work on his cock with my tongue. It was hard long ago; I was just seeing how hard I could make it. Pretty darned hard, as it turned out.
I lay back pulling him on top of me, rubbing myself open. He started to kiss his way down to it but I pulled him back up.
“Business at hand,” I said. “Watching that water drip off of you was all the foreplay I needed tonight. Don’t pout,” I added, seeing his face. “If there’s time you can always go back to it. Me first,” I insisted.
He was a good boy, and got over me. I locked my legs around him, rubbing myself wantonly. He slid into me slowly, watching my face. It stretches me still, but when he goes slowly I can only feel warmth. It was good, good, good, and rubbing myself and moving against him and biting my free hand, I brought myself off quicker than it took me to type this paragraph just now. And I type pretty fast, too.
“Do you need more,” he asked me gently.
“More, more, more, more,” I whispered, writhing beneath him.
He complied, but held me down by my wrists. It was dark, very quiet, and I could hear the mattress as he sawed in and out of me. I could hear the squishing and my own involuntary gasps and cries.
“Hush, ma Cherie,” he whispered into my ear, putting a finger on my lips that I sucked. “You don’t want any of the children to awaken.”
I came again, biting his finger. “More,” I said, as he slowed down. “More, more, more, more,” I repeated each time he thrust against my moving hips.
He moved me down, skootching me down until my legs were hanging off of the bed. He put my legs around his back and then, his feet on the floor, started to hammer me, slowly at first, then building speed. Little explosions were going off in my closed eyes. Fireworks, I thought, I’ve heard of it making you see fireworks.
“What do you want?” he whispered into my ear suddenly.
“I want … for you … to …” I said, then stopped.
He stopped moving, and held me tightly. “Tell me,” he insisted.
‘I want you to come on me,” I blurted out.
He looked at me.
“On my breasts,” I continued. “Can you?”
“If I promise to, will you let me suck on you first?” he asked. He started moving again, slowly and building up speed.
I laughed. “You drive … a hard … oo! … a VERY hard … bargain.”
He pulled out of me and I gasped. He moved down between my legs but I needed his cock so I turned him around so he could get at me and I could get at him. He was very wet from me and I had no trouble stoking his wet shaft while I licked and sucked the thick head.
His tongue was so long and warm as it plowed into me. I love the way a tongue can shape shift suddenly, from a broad flat shape, to a long thin one, to a thick and wide bludgeon, then a wedge, then a vibrator. It’s all good.
I stroked it faster then he took it from me and started really pounding it.
“Do you still want it?” he asked.
I lay back on the bed and nodded. “Don’t hold it back, either.”
He shook his head.
I was rubbing myself when the first drop appeared, then it flooded out of him for a long time. He held the base of his cock as he stroked it, then when he let go of the base it really flew out thick. It went down my chest, and it was so warm that it surprised me.
I knelt and took the head in my mouth to suck the last bit of it off. There was still quite a bit but it didn’t just shoot out, I had to work it out of him. Which, I did, greedily.
“Do you feel better?” he asked me.
“I do,” I said. “And so do you, admit it.”
“I do,” he said, and then, “Are you still sleeping up here?”
“Yes,” I said, licking my fingers, “but I bet we can both squeeze up here on this bed; at least for a little while.’
I was exhausted, and as I lay against his chest, my eyes closed. When they opened again, it was morning and Monsieur was outside, watering the chickens.