Thursday, August 17, 2006

Dark Passage

I was scrubbing crayon marks off of the kitchen table later last night, when I looked up and saw Monsieur there. “I’m sorry, about the other night,” Monsieur said to me.
“Sorry? About what?” I said, continuing to scrub.
“My cowardly retreat from you when you did nothing but very generously offer me – what you generously offered.”
My stomach did a flip-flop, so I concentrated on a tiny purple mark and scrubbed furiously. “It’s … well, it’s all right,” I said, trying to convince myself. “You’re allowed to want what you want, and not want what you don’t want. It’s not a deal breaker. I’m OK.”
“Well, just because I don’t take you up on your offer, doesn’t mean I don’t find the offer appealing,” he said.
I looked up at him, then continued scrubbing a crayon mark that had vanished long before. “Not appealing enough to take me up on it,” I said, somewhat accusingly.
“I think the table is clean now,” he said, taking my hand and removing the green scouring pad. “You need to get in the shower.”
“I just took a shower. Do I smell?” I asked. My heart was pounding.
“I didn’t say you needed a shower. I said you needed to get in the shower. [Littlest Boy] is in our bed,” he added as he was leading me towards the bedroom door, “so … try to keep your voice down.”
“Um. Oh. All right,” I whispered.
He opened the bedroom door. Of course, it was pitch black in there, as the curtains and blinds were closed. There was no night light, because Littlest Boy tends to wake up if there is any ambient light in the room he’s in. I am completely blind in the dark, and Monsieur knew it. He led me into the bathroom and closed the door.
“Are we going to leave the bathroom light off, too?” I asked.
“Shh,” he whispered, then put a finger on my lips. He put his lips to where they were touching my ear. “He’s sleeping very lightly,” Monsieur whispered. “He’s awakened three times already, and I don’t think you want me to be interrupted.” He lifted up my shirt and slid it off of me, and lowered my shorts. I started to unbutton his shirt but he pulled my hands away, held them over my head and kissed me. I arched my back, kissing him hard and pressing against him. He hadn’t shaved; his beard was rough but his lips were soft and the contrast was very much appreciated.
I tried to pull my hands free to touch him but he held them firmly, so I gave up and yielded to him. He kissed my neck, my shoulders, my chest. I longed to get him naked, but he had his own ideas and I was content to just follow his lead.
He let go of my hands and turned me around. He slipped my panties off and ran his warm, strong hand over my butt. He pressed his lips to my ear and said, “Get in the tub and hold the towel bar.”
I obeyed. He put my hands against the wall, and put my foot on the edge of the tub, so that I was standing on one foot but using the other one for balance. “Hold on,” he whispered. I nodded. He knelt behind me and began to cover my bottom with kisses. The coarseness of his unshaven face felt like the green scouring pad. He exhaled and held my ass in his hands and then spread my bottom, and then pressed his lips to me.
My labia parted slowly with the pressure, and his tongue emerged, making gentle flicks and licks to the edge of my labia. He went in slow circles; his tongue felt like a paintbrush doing a stipple effect to the canvas of my vulva. I gripped the towel bar tighter, and looked over my shoulder. I could hardly see a thing. It was pitch black and I strained to see his face between my ass cheeks. I could make out the shape of his head. In the blackness I heard him inhale through his nose, hold his breath to lick me, and then breathe out again.
I felt him touch me with his hand. I bit my lip as I felt his mouth pull away, his tongue replaced by one finger snaking its way in between my labia. I gasped, then as another finger joined the first my eyes closed and I cried out.
He stopped, then got up and left. I made a whimpering sound, then heard it almost repeated from the bedroom. Littlest Boy was stirring, and his daddy patted him down and held him for a minute, while I caught my breath in the bathroom.
Monsieur returned to the tub. I pressed my lips to his ear. “Is he all right?” I asked, barely letting breath escape my lips.
Monsieur pressed his lips to my ear and replied, “Yes, he’s sleeping very lightly. I suspect it’s his allergy. Do you want to continue?”
“Desperately,” I said, a little too loudly.
He held a finger to my lips. I kissed it. He pressed his lips to my ear. “You must be able to control yourself.” I nodded. I knelt, dropped his shorts and took him into my mouth as fast as I could. I worked the thick knob of his cock with my tongue until he was as hardened as pink steel. I reached to the floor behind me, picked up my panties and stuffed most of them in my mouth. I then stood, turned around, and, sufficiently gagged, took hold of the towel bar again.
He lifted my leg, spreading me, and ran the tip of his cock along my slit. I moaned into my bunched up panties, pushing back against him a little too hard. It wasn’t easy to get into me this time, as I was so swollen that it was almost too much to get me to distend around his thickness. It took some time. The oxen are slow, I thought, but the Earth is patient. I breathed, imagining my vagina opening up and relaxing. He knelt and plunged his tongue into me from behind, causing me to cry out once and again. I was grateful to be gagged by my panties. I didn’t want anything to interrupt us. I wanted only for the room to move. It was so delightful, after waiting for almost a month, to have him ministering to the pleasure which I so fervently desired.
He replaced his tongue with two fingers, which slid slickly into me. He stood up and pressed his wet swollen lips to my ear.
“Clench,” he whispered. My kegels complied without any further instruction from my conscious brain. He moved his fingers, first in, then turning them over and bending them slightly, and withdrew them almost completely. I tried to say “No,” before he left me aching to be filled, but my mouth was stuffed with my panties.
He pressed is lips against my ear again. “Good girl,” he barely whispered. With that, I felt my wetness pooling up within me and when he positioned his cock against me once again, he only had to tilt my hips up before he popped in and brought his body to line up with me. He held my hips and pulled me back to him. I leaned forward and he began to move. I moaned and he held his hand over my stuffed mouth and, using this and his hand on my hips for leverage, started to fuck me.
It was slow at first, but he quickly built up speed. I wanted to let go of the towel bar but it was the only thing keeping me from falling forward. I wanted to touch myself. I had to climax; it was building up almost painfully. I couldn’t even beg him. I gripped the bar tightly, thinking to myself, if only I could let go long enough to ding the bean.
He let go of my hips and curled his body over my back. Keeping his left hand over my mouth, pressing the panties further in, he reached in front of me and bore two of his fingers into my clit, making slow, lazy circles. I moaned, and he held his hand tighter to suppress the noise I made. He pulled up on the skin of my mons and resumed rubbing, not fast, not hard, but deliberately; and my climax hit me so hard my knees went weak. He held me up with one hand around my waist, pounding me like a hammer. I was delirious. My orgasm bubbled up and I heard a noise in my ears like a waterfall; I let go, roaring through the panties, through his hand, through the walls and up into space. I had no thought, my mind was empty; I had become my orgasm and my only thought was, Now. Then there was no thought.
He had stopped, and I came back into my body. I was breathing hard and looked around. Everything was pitch dark, so dark I could see the blood circulating in my eyes, and for a moment I thought oh God, he’s fucked me blind. Then I remembered that the lights were off. He stood up straight, his cock shifted inside me and I closed my eyes.
He pressed his lips to my ear. “If I remove it, will you be quiet?”
I didn’t know if he meant my panties or his cock, but I nodded anyway.
First he pulled out of me, then he removed my panties from my mouth. I had chewed them pretty hard, and they were ruined. He opened them up to see that my teeth had ground them until there were little holes in the crotch. He tossed them into the trash.
I was breathing hard. He held me tightly, and as I hugged him I whispered as quietly as I could and gasping as little as possible, “Are you finished?”
He nodded, but I reached out and stroked him and could tell by the way it felt that he hadn’t.
“Do you want me to … to take care of you?” I whispered.
He shook his head.
“Are you sure?”
“Soon enough,” he whispered quietly. I wondered what that meant, then I decided not to be so selfish and to be grateful for what I’d received.

5 comments:

Race Bannon said...

Sigh...

Ignore my previous entry (LMAO) about men.

Good luck, to the both of you.

Romancing Simplicity said...

The way you write about your relationship with Monsieur is...amazing. I'd be grateful too!

super des said...

ha ha pantymouth.

introspectre said...

Today, you are my hero. I dub thee:
The Mighty And Glorious Captain Fucked On A Towel Rack Panty Mouthed Oxen Thinker.

I shall make you a cape. Tell me where to send it. It won't replace the panties, but it will have far more love in it than they ever did. Well, maybe except for the end. They did meet a rather glamorous end, I must say.

DH said...

Incredible description!!! That sounds so damn sexy!!!