Chapter 13

“Well, let me get out of my clothes. This bed’s so hard to get down, don’t want to waste its availability,” She stripped -- his turn to ogle.

When she got into bed beside him, he leaned over to kiss her. He touched her everywhere, and she made not the slightest objection. Soon, his mouth was following his hands. Her neck tasted salty; she’d been working in a hot laundromat, doing his work. He couldn’t keep away from her breasts for long, though. He sucked on them and stroked up between her legs. She was juicy, nice and juicy. He spread the juice around. He had to remember to change breasts. On the way, he visited her mouth once more. It was sweet. He needed more mouths to kiss everywhere he wanted to, mouth, throat, breasts. And there was a tempting navel he hadn’t visited at all.

She was obviously getting closer. He caressed her vulva, stroking the clit occasionally. He kept sucking on her luscious breast. She came, came quite obviously.

When she stopped responding, he removed both hand and mouth. He wanted to taste those breasts some more, but he knew that would have to wait. He hugged her, scrupulously avoiding sensitive skin and any interference with her breathing. This was Sylvia; this was his darling.

“George?” she asked.

“Who did you think was hugging you?”

“Could you find another rubber?”

“Right here,” he said.

He wasn’t quite firm, yet, but there was enough rigidity to allow him to get the condom on. He kissed her again, then progressed to her breasts, which seemed extra responsive to his licks. The sensitivity of her vulva, on the other hand, wasn’t the good kind of sensitivity.

He went back to stroking her less sensitive regions. When she grasped his cock, however, he figured she was ready. He got into position. The lips of her vulva felt divine on his cockhead, even through the latex. “Sylvia!” he said.

He felt her surrounding him, first the cockhead, then the shaft. She was warm and tight. He moved so he could hold her breasts while in that position. The feel of her nipples against his palms was as exciting as her warm clasp around his cock.

He settled into the old, familiar, delightful, rhythm. The noise of the bedsprings kept time, but if that bothered Sylvia, she didn’t mention it. She was responding to him, moving up when he entered her. He loved this, but it was too soon after the last time. His excitement was at a high plane, but it wasn’t getting any higher. Still, the sensations were delightful.

Life couldn’t be any better than this. And then it got better. Sylvia clasped his butt with both hands. Soon she was clasping his cock with her vulva. The feeling was exquisite. He was becoming more excited, but the demand which preceded coming was nowhere evident.

He kept moving in and out of Sylvia’s pulsing vulva. When the tight clasps eased for a moment, he thought she was finished. Then she started again. This time, her walls’ clasp on his cock excited him the final bit more. “Oh God!” he said and poured out into her. And poured, and poured.

He collapsed onto her softness. When he could, he moved off. He should be hugging her but couldn’t find the energy. Where had that come from? He should have been drained the first time. “Wow,” he said.

“Wow, yourself. You can’t stay here. I wish you could, but you can’t.” He could see that.

He watched her walk away, appreciating the flex of her butt cheeks. She came out in her nightgown. Well, it was a sexy nightgown. Besides, taking it off was part of sex play. Besides, he needed to make his own preparations, too. He wanted to neither scratch her with his whiskers nor leave her in the middle to empty his bladder.

Probably petting in the middle of this would be inappropriate. So, when he came back to her, he started an elaborate petting session. Besides, the closer she was to orgasm before he got to her clitoris, the more stimulation the clitoris could take later. They kissed, and he petted her through the nightgown. When he figured that both of them found the nightgown an impediment, he helped her remove it. The kisses then only began on her lips. He kissed down to her breast and stroked down to her mound. He even stroked the labia majora. This was too soon to get to the labia minora, though.

When he’d kissed down her torso nearly to her mound, he got between her legs. She raised her knees. He began his kisses on her breasts and kissed a different path down her abdomen. All the time, he was still stroking her mound and labia with his fingers. The second path of kisses ended at her mound. Then he moved to her legs. As her knees were conveniently raised, he could start above the knee and lick from there nearly to her loins. He did this first to his right and then to his left.

Jen was tense, and it looked like the right sort of tension. Yes. When he licked her labia, she was flowing. He alternated licks on her labia and her clitoris while her torso went rigid. Then she writhed under his mouth.

As soon as she relaxed, he thrust two fingers into her. They felt for her G-spot. He let her clit alone but rubbed directly over that little bump. When her tension seemed at another peak, he resumed licking her clit. He was rewarded with her clutching around his fingers. He sucked gently on her clitoris to continue the orgasm.

When she was no longer gripping his fingers, he rubbed her G-spot again. But he stopped moving his fingers and went back to licking her labia and clit when her legs squeezed his head. He added G-spot stimulation when he thought it would bring her over. It did. She contracted around his fingers again and gasped his name while he sucked her clitoris. This climax seemed to last longer than the previous ones had.

“Yes, Jen,” he said when she’d relaxed. He wriggled his fingers to stimulate her G-spot again. “Yes, dearest.” She had three more orgasms around his fingers, although they seemed to weaken from that last peak. Then she pulled him away by his hair.

No means no, even in marriage, and that seemed a fairly definite no. He pulled out his fingers and got out from between her legs. She curled into the fetal position. He lay beside her waiting for her to straighten. She’d had six orgasms, and the third had seemed the most intense, physically. That told them something. Between inhaling the odor of her arousal for what seemed like an hour and having had her writhing under his mouth, he was intensely aroused. It would have been great to have participated in her third orgasm. That was for him. Maybe she would enjoy six of an evening more. They could, of course, alternate between what pleased her most and what pleased him most. It wasn’t as if she’d ever refused him. She might be said to be doing so just now, but that wasn’t denying him. That was having had enough sex just then.

And, after all, whatever her solitary habits had been -- and he wasn’t going to ask in expectation that she would accord him reciprocal reticence -- they probably didn’t extend to multiples. A period of extended exercise could quite possibly improve the tone of certain muscles. Six might be her current limit. That didn’t prove that it would be her limit next year. If so, he had better get his tongue in shape. He wouldn’t fool himself that his phallus could handle that.

“And did your desk come, too?”

“I thought you’d never ask. Come see.” He’d seen the desk, but not the office looking like an office rather than a storage room.

“Impressive.” He said when they were inside. “This is your home, now. And, being your home, welcome home.” He took her in his arms. When she saw his meaning, she cooperated in the kiss. But, unlike her welcome-home kisses to him, this one didn’t end. He fondled her breasts and groped her butt. all the while, his tongue was exploring -- no, plundering -- her mouth. When he started unbuckling her belt, she tried to stop him.

“Bill! After all, we have a bed.”

“Yep, but I’ve been thinking of this ever since I saw that this was the desk you’d selected.” Well, so they had a bed. They were also married, and she didn’t need to take any precautions. Besides, the kiss and groping were starting to arouse her. She stopped fighting it. When he’d peeled down her jeans and panties together, a highly impractical combination, he lifted her until she was sitting on the desk. Then he took off her shoes and pulled the jeans off one leg at a time. After the panties followed, he tossed them somewhere. He fondled her thighs and then between them. He used his other hand to unbutton her shirt.

He fumbled with the buttons a bit on the top, but he was dealing with her quite expertly below. He stroked up her cleft to her clit before he got her blouse open enough to reach her bra. She had one moment to worry whether her moisture was getting on the desk before she stopped worrying about anything. She was close; she was getting closer.

“Oh Carolyn,” he said. He was watching her face, not his finger in her cleft as you’d expect, when she flew. She dropped down to the desk and he pulled her forward so that her hips were on the edge. He went back to stroking her cleft and her clit. His other hand left her for his belt. When he bent over her, she felt him at her entrance. “Oh, Carolyn,” he repeated. As he entered her, she saw him straighten up. His hand abandoned her cleft for one of her legs. He lifted both of them up so her calves were over his shoulders. He rested his hand on her delta again. She felt his thumb tickle her clit as he began driving back and forth within her. His face was red with his effort, but he looked delighted.

When she felt him push her back on the desk and pulse within her, she flew.

Somewhat later, he reached up a hand and lowered her left leg to dangle off the desk. Then with the other hand, he lowered the right leg. He backed off a little and then straightened. He was taller now than he had been when he was inside her. She felt his stuff funning down her ass cheek.

Finally, Gayle raised her knees again. Greg raised his body off her and moved up until he was staring in her eyes. He brought his hips downward and pressed forward. Gayle said something, and he backed off an inch and came forward again. The third time he tried, he apparently got in.

You could see him sink his hips between her legs, and Gayle sighed. Gayle only moaned when you went down on her, and only sometimes then, but the woman really appreciated dick.

• ... *

Now, it was Greg’s cock she was appreciating, and Greg was setting a moderate pace. As he watched, the pace increased.

Gayle’s hands were flat on the ground and pushing up as she shoved her belly back at Greg when he slammed into her. Greg’s own hands now slipped from her boobs to the ground. His head and trunk rose as his groin pushed deeply into Gayle.

She convulsed. He thrust even harder and poised above Gayle, shaking.

Between watching her nurse, playing with her cunt, and now picturing his first fuck in weeks, he was primed already. “Let me put it on. If you do it, I’ll erupt.”

He did put the Trojan on, avoiding as much contact as possible with the sensitive point at the bottom of the head. She watched, then spread her legs in silent invitation. He got into position and kissed her. Then he watched her face while he moved inside that familiar warmth. She didn’t look like the invasion had hurt. Instead, she hugged him. She grabbed his butt before holding him about the waist. “Welcome back,” she said. And he was back where he wanted to be.

But he was losing it, hoping that she was coming along as well. The smooth warmth all along his cock, every move that she made and word that she spoke to welcome him, ratcheted his tension higher. He drove in and out strongly, more strongly than he should considering her recent delivery.

Then he thrust in very hard and spurted into that warmth. She hadn’t joined him, but she did hug him as he lay upon her.

“Sorry!” he said when he’d recovered. He moved beside her and kissed her while his hand returned to her cunt. It didn’t take her long. She was so tolerant, more tolerant than he deserved in general, infinitely more tolerant than that last performance had deserved. He kissed her hairline. Then, when her breathing was recovered, they settled into the spoon. Could he get it up in the morning? Well, he’d try.

“You suspect me of thinking about doing this.” He fingered her outer labia. “I’m totally innocent. And I’d never kiss you here.” ‘Here’ being her breast. She covered it and his head, but she made no suggestion that she wanted him to stop.

One thing led to another but led there quite slowly. They were resting together after a long night; he wasn’t going to demand more of her than her body felt able to give. Indeed, when her body stiffened, she held him to her sweet breast. He licked and sucked her nipple while stroking her fluids, now copious, up to her clitoris.

When she writhed in his arms, he said, “Marilyn darling.” Then he watched her face express first agony and then peace. He held her and kissed her lightly as she dozed again.

A little later, she woke and turned towards him for a kiss. Then she got up to go into the bathroom. He put on his glasses to watch her there and back. When she returned, she kissed him again. He tasted fresh toothpaste. She welcomed his tongue in her mouth, seemed to welcome his hand on her vulva. When she tensed again beginning her erotic journey, she grasped his cock.

“You.”

“Yes.” They’d had their break from the world. This was the last for the morning, and it should take them both. He would be able to last this morning, unlike the night before, and it was better for both of them if they came together. She led him to her warmth, and he slowly pressed into that slickness. When she clasped all of him, he kissed her hairline. He adjusted himself so that he was resting on his elbows with a hand on each breast.

He watched her face while he stroked slowly in and out of her sweetness. Her nipples were firm under his thumbs while her expression changed from love towards him to inward questioning. Her hands stroked down his back while her expression changed to worry. She pressed back at his downstrokes while her expression showed the first hint of pain.

“Marilyn,” he said as her expression changed to agony and she clasped and relaxed around him. He drove in and out ever more rapidly through those clasps. Then he thrust in as far as he could and poured himself into her. “Love you,” he said letting his left arm collapse before the rest of his muscles. That rolled them both to the part of the bed they weren’t already occupying.

Getting between my legs, Bob began kissing my thighs. One kiss on my right leg, one on my left, he moved slowly higher. About the time he got to delicate ground, he stopped to maneuver the cushion under my butt. I lifted up for it knowing that my center was now totally accessible to his mouth. Still he took his time, kissing my thighs and my delta.

I was fairly hot before he kissed the center of my labia majora and parted them with his hand. Then he was licking the labia minora. About that time, I lost track of the particulars. I had this wonderful sensation. Then he did something else, and I had another sensation which was even lovelier. I remember particularly, though, that he moved his hands up to cup my breasts. After that, there was nothing but sensation. I felt tighter and tighter, but also that I was floating a little above my body. Meanwhile, there were pulses of pleasure.

Then, the tightness pulled me back. It almost hurt; I felt close to panic, as though I were about to break. Then I did break. Fire burnt through me. Then I was that fire, flaring with it. Then it was warmth rather than heat; I was swelling, pulsing, warmth.

Then I was Jeanette again, held in Bob’s arms and shielded by his body, wrapped in the covers with him all around them. If he surrounded me, I surrounded a very important part of him. He kissed my forehead and crooned love words and love sounds and my name.

It was lovely, but I wanted to feel his skin. My top half was cocooned in the blanket, and my legs were out in the air. He stayed in me but raised his torso on that pivot. He lifted one hand at a time as I pulled the covers out from under them. After I tossed the covers over most of him, he arranged them to cover us both. I was still on the cushion.

“Comfy?” he asked.

I tightened his very favorite muscle. “How did you get here?”

“I snuck up on you while you were distracted.”

“Do love slaves get kisses?”

He moved so that our mouths could meet. We kissed with closed lips, then really kissed. It took him a long time to answer. “Only if they are really sexy love slaves.”

He adjusted his position so that he could rest his weight on his elbows while reaching my breasts.

“Look to your left,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because you are a sex slave, and you have received a direct order.”

I turned my head to the left, and he licked my right ear. It tickled, the soft breath after it tickled more, the fingers just touching my nipples tickled as well. I writhed. He was almost still as I provided the motion at our juncture.

But that got to him. He straightened so that he could move in me with deep, slow strokes. I matched him, then had to speed up. On every stroke, he filled me completely, pressing inward until our pubic bones bumped. He drove into me, but somewhere within me a force drove me against him even harder. The flame was flickering again, then flickering around me where I was around him. I reached down to pull him more tightly against me.

He went first. I could feel him pulsing within me and feel his seed hit me. I got one look at his grim, tortured face. Then the fire flared again. He pulsed, the fire pulsed, I pulsed.

When I looked at his face again, the grimness was all gone. He looked like a baby who had fallen asleep full. Some of his weight was on his arm bones but most was on me. I wanted that weight. I wanted to hug him, but my arms were a little weak.

When she stood beside Michelle’s bed, the sheet was raised in silent invitation. If Connie had taken her time with snotty Liz, she was going to take more time with friendly Michelle. She held one boob while she kissed all over the other, only moving her hand to Michelle’s labia when she’d spread lots of kisses over the boob. Again, she stayed away from Michelle’s clitoris for a minute, rubbing the labia well away from it. Then she touched it once and returned to the labia. When Michelle stiffened, Connie had an idea. She kissed Michelle on her mouth and rubbed directly on the clitoris. She felt Michelle’s gasp, but no-one heard it.

She lay there holding Michelle as she recovered. At Michelle’s push on her shoulder, she lay down flat. Michelle still rubbed her most sensitive point too soon, but she did kiss her boobs while she was doing it. After Michelle had taken her over, Connie lay there for a minute. Then she got up to go back to her own bed.

I drew back only far enough for my eyes to focus. I saw the pink smoothness I had been licking; I saw the entrance which looks tiny but is magically able to accept me. And, there at the top where all that beauty comes together in whirls and whorls, I saw her delicate bud peeking out.

I couldn’t resist one taste just there. Sandra raised herself as if to meet my tongue. I could hear her inhalation as she tensed, almost a whistle. I could hear her sigh as she relaxed. I licked even more gently and got that response again.

Then I settled my mouth upon that beauty. No longer needing my fingers to keep her open, I slid my hands under her thighs and up the sheets. With my arms in the new position, I could again support my weight on my elbows, and my hands could now cup her breasts.

At my first mild kiss, her nipples tickled my palms; her hips shifted between my arms. I tickled her nipples back. I squeezed her breasts very slightly. I licked one side or the other of her groove. Occasionally I kissed her again, gently sucking her bud. But I did all this in no predictable order, making each sensation a surprise.

I felt her body tense. She raised her head to make eye contact. I could tell that she would be ready soon, ready for one firm kiss to send her over.

“Not tonight,” she said. She was right. This night, however filled with pleasure, was not about pleasure.

I slid my hands back down the sheet until they were under my shoulders. After one last suck and one last lick from the pool of nectar in her entryway, I raised myself onto one elbow. She passed me a pillow and raised her hips. I slid the pillow under them, stealing a kiss from her mound.

Then I was crawling up the bed on hands and knees, arms arched over her legs instead of under them. I gave each nipple one sucking kiss in passing. We shared a deep kiss while I was perched on two knees and my left elbow. With my right hand, I opened her lips and rubbed my glans through all that beauty -- and all those juices.

Poised at her entrance, I shifted my hand until I could support my weight balanced above her. She parted her legs yet further, inviting me inside. Slowly, deliciously, I slid into the velvet of her vulva. Gently, graciously, the tightness parted to welcome me. Perhaps because the pillow had raised her, I felt her around the base of my penis in a way she hadn’t been before.

When we were fully joined, she wrapped her legs around me. I adjusted my arms so that my hands could reach her breasts again. Then I looked into her face. As she smiled, I felt her legs clench. It was as if she were trying to pull me further into her. That was impossible; and, when she relaxed, I withdrew.

Then I was stroking through all that warm glory. To heighten my pleasure, I watched her face tighten as she responded to me. Sandra, the source of so much pleasure, was feeling pleasure herself.

Now, she grasped my arms. Her heels pounded against my thighs. Her face showed agony, though I knew it was pleasure. I felt her squeeze around me, all velvet turned to steel. Then my appreciation of her climax was lost in my own. I could not see, but only feel; I could not feel her under me, but only around me. All my being gathered in my groin.