It was a
balmy twilight. Warm rain misted the glass windows of our hotel room. There was
a ripple of coquettish laughter from below the balcony as a couple left to go
to a party.
Red candles
burned along the bathroom countertop. I did some laps through the rippling spa
water. Once my arms and legs started to burn in a pleasant way, I stopped and
treaded water.
A shadow
passed over my head. I stared up.
“YOU MADE
THIS FOR ME?” she said, standing over the water. She was back from the hotel
gym. “HOW SWEET.”
“You said
the pool was off limits,” I pointed out.
“SURE,
BECAUSE WE KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN HOTEL SWIMMING POOLS AND TINY MEN MIX.”
She took
her hair out of its ponytail. After a tiring workout she was enticed by the
water.
“I’M DYING
TO GET IN HERE AND PLAY WITH YOU.”
She eagerly
slipped off her gym clothes and they fell to the floor. Her nakedness reared
over the spa edge, breasts hanging like enormous fruit over my head. I rushed
to swim out of the way before her long legs dipped into the water and she
settled down with a heartfelt groan.
The water
reached up to the undersides of her breasts which sat on the water like
boulders. She raised her legs and then stretched one to the other side of the
rim. I was churned about by the movement and struggled to keep above the water.
She unthinkingly caught my head between her fingertips to hold me still.
She was so
big the water clung to her, wrapped around her body like clothing and I was
stuck in it. Her smallest movements buffeted and bounced me around. She gently
splashed me about and then caught me for a sensual massage.
Her thumbs
massaged my temples and cheeks and went down my chest, passing over my penis
repeatedly as she rubbed my stomach and thighs. My dick pulsed, coming alive.
She lifted me in and out of the water, cupping it and pouring it on me. The
whole time I could feel her eyes raking my naked body, especially my erection.
She stroked
my stomach tugged my penis and played with the underside of my balls, until I
was almost bursting. I squirmed in her grip as I was forcefully milked.
After
endlessly being toyed with, finally, relief. The end of my dick busted with fluid. Jen’s
hand drifted away and I heard her suck her fingertip. It returned to my groin
stroked to clean up the tip of my dick. I squirmed harder, loving and hating
her touch now I was spent. She played with my balls gently to get me to stop
moving.
Satisfied I
was drained, she lay back, lifted a knee and draped me over it, and turned on
some music on her phone while she started to wash herself. I could tell she was turned on but she
restrained herself.
Every day
of the honeymoon Jen’s sex drive pursued me with single-minded determination. On
the first day she couldn’t keep her hands off me. Her lips would keep brushing
my face out of nowhere for spontaneous making out, and didn’t let me go until I
came. I loved her soft touch but got fatigued of being kissed and chased and
squeezed and thrown into the air. After, she tried to tone it down, using words
and glances and small touches, and building up to taking my ankle one evening
after dinner while we watched TV and dragging me slowly over the sofa towards
an invisible target between her thighs. Every commercial break I found myself
being pulled irresistibly nearer to her snatch. By the time the TV credits
rolled I was snagged inside her panties.
Now, the
sixth night, I enjoyed a rare moment of resting consciousness, as I lay in bed
before sleep. My muscles still twinged from the evening’s ferocious sexual
activity. I felt like a limp, deflated douche and smelled like pussy juice.
The
bathroom light flicked off and Jen’s footsteps padded around the room, circling
in on me. On one side of the bed, the mattress bowed with a creak as she slid back
under the sheet. Her expanse shape floated over as she rolled onto her stomach,
and a rope of hair spilled over my head as she bent to press a soft kiss just
above my tired eyes. I gave her a peck on the lips and said goodnight.
“GOOD NIGHT,”
her throaty voice came back. Then her words trailed lasciviously. “WAIT, I
THINK I WILL RIDE YOU NOW.”
Before I
could say anything, she scooped me up and drove her tongue between my legs. Arousal
flowed through my veins. As soon as my penis was erect, it was snared by her
eager lips and sucked on ceaselessly, until my dick was so painfully dense it
felt like it was made of iron.
Then she
flipped me around and slid me into the entrance of her vagina. From between her
thighs, most of my view was obstructed by the spiky hump of her monster pubis
and the larger, ballooning undersides of her breasts, red pricked up nipples,
with locks of hair spilling over. Stickiness dammed around my neck as her
vagina sweated amorously, and bands of muscle pulled around my body as her sex
contracted. Each time this happened, a breath stealing stretch ran through my
entire system. Sometimes this caused warm pungent fluid into my mouth which I
swallowed without judgment. I happily relaxed, turning myself to putty so she
could move me around without hurting me.
The
clamping feeling grew tighter as she got close to orgasm. My body fought to not
get squished as it was gripped and wrung. An orgasmic curling flex extinguished
the air from my lungs. I gasped before another big scrunch made me lightheaded.
She pushed on my head until it was tucked under her g-spot. Every squeeze
caused my skull to probe the delicate area and tease out her release.
The tension
built up unbelievably; her womanhood became thicker and heavier. Then she came
with an explosion of amazing pressure. The bands of muscle clamping me pulled
so tight, as if she’d sat on me all at once. I was certain I would burst or be
pulled apart.
My face
emerged from her vagina again, but she didn’t take me out. She arranged the
slit around my head so only my face stuck out, and laughed:
“MY VULVA
HAS A TEENSY FACE.”
She lay
back, with me cradled between her thighs, Too tired out to argue, I remained
like this while she went to sleep.
On the last
day of our honeymoon there was a New Years’ party. That night Jen hit the
street with me and we went downtown to a tapas restaurant.
There was
music and a long crowded bar, so we went up to the upper deck. People came up
to me and shook my hand. They knew we were
newlyweds because the wedding photos had made it onto the web. Jen soaked up
the attention but kept me close to her at all times, particularly when the
bottle service models glided past.
A group of
giggling women floated past and congratulated Jen, but this turned out to be a
front to get closer to me.
“CAN WE
TOUCH HIM?” they said. “JUST A LITTLE—”
Jen’s hand
swept around me and removed me from their sight.
“EXCUSE ME,”
she grunted. “THIS IS A DATE, NOT A SIGNING,” The women moved off. Distracted,
Jen put her bag on the table and thin roll of string spilled out.
“OH, DAMN,”
she murmured, “WHAT IS THAT DOING IN THERE.” She stuffed it back in like it was
an indecent item.
She bolted
upright and went around badgering management to rope our table off. And then
stuffed me in between her cleavage which seemed to work to deter other women
trying to touch me or pick me up.
After
dinner we talked about our future plans. She said had found a carpenter in St
Palma who worked on some of the movie sets I’d been on. He said he could make
me a special miniature house. Not a full house, but a bedroom at least, for
privacy. Or, that was supposed to be the idea.
“WE RAN
THROUGH THE SPECS,” she said, “AND I'M THRILLED. BUT...I HAD TO PUT IN A WORD FOR
A SMALL ADJUSTMENT."
"Running
water for a separate bathroom?"
“NO, SILLY.”
With a
dramatic flourish, she made a clawing, gripping motion right over my head as if
to yank something up. I flinched. She felt this and giggled.
She said:
“THE
CEILING COMES OFF."
My lips
pulled tight.
“We need to
talk about that—”
She shifted
restlessly in her seat.
“YES, TOTALLY,
LATER, OKAY? IT’S ALMOST MIDNIGHT AND I WANT TO DANCE!”
I was still
caught in place between her mammaries when she stepped into a flock of
restaurant-goers dancing on the floor in the adjoining room, under a pavilion
just outside the bar, lit by the neon signs.
The
constant jiggling nearly caused me to bounce out of her top. I was hastily
transferred from between her breasts into the side of her sports bra, my head poked
out practically in her armpit. She danced long until sweat trailed down her
body, and my hair began to get damp from her sweat.
Close to
midnight, the crowd’s anticipation began to swell, I was pulled out of her bra
and the table top suddenly materialized back under my feet. She slid into her
seat, breathing heavily, her skin lightly glimmering with sweat.
“FIVE…!” the
crowd was chanting, “FOUR…!...THREE…!...TWO…!”
She leaned
in, I ran for her, pushed my head forward. A plush velvety bear hug from a huge
pair of lips gripped my entire face, and a heated rush of her worked-out
breath. The lips clamped firmly together, keeping me stuck in place, but safely
barricaded on the outside of her mouth.
“ONE…HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
From
outside, fireworks whistled overhead, filling the air with electric charge that
ran through her and vibrated around my body, making my hair on the back of my
neck stand up.
The giant
mushy lips then spread briefly as if preparing to suck me inside, but only the
tip of the wet tongue to emerged and swirled delicately over my face for an
instant. I pulled back but she sucked tighter, keeping me locked in place. A
couple more times I tried to pull back but she playfully sucked harder. Her
lips comfortably screwed around the perimeter of my head, making me feel
stretched like I was beginning to travel up a straw.
I tapped
her lips and.
“How do I
zoom out on this thing?”
She heard
my voice coming from inside her mouth and tried to keep from laughing. Finally
she let go of my head, leaning back to observed me from across the table. Her
lipstick was smudged with an imprint of my eyes, nose and mouth. The displaced
lipstick was on my face. She licked her fingertips delicately and then they
blocked out my vision as they softly scrubbed at my cheeks. I tried to turn my
head away from the unsolicited face wash, but a fingerpad shifted to touch upon
my face anywhere I looked. Finally it ended.
“Happy new
year, Kitten,” I said, to annoy her.
“OH, IT
WILL BE, BUB.” She poked me in the chest with little finger, sweeping me back
on my feet a little. She ventured: “DID YOU MAKE A WISH?”
“Who makes
a wish on New Years’?” I replied. “Did you?”
She gave
coy shrug and looked away for a long moment. Then her face came right in as
she said:
"JERRY,
LOOK AT ME. TELL ME WHAT I’M THINKING.”
She said
this slowly, while drinking in my attention. I looked at her. Her bright green
eyes were cool and fiery at the same time. They resisted analysis even as they
analyzed my face in a heartbeat. She went
on:
“WHAT I’M
THINKING RIGHT NOW IS...”
There was a
self-conscious pause before she said something else. The heat of her breath
went through my hair. Her mouth was so close to my ear her voice – even at a
crackly whisper— rumbled my head and turned her voice into a rushing ocean wave
of sound. It sounded like she said: “You’re the ultimate love of my life.” It
also sounded like she said: “You’re my ultimate slave for life.”
I was just
about to ask her which one she meant, but decided it didn’t matter.
“I’m
yours,” I agreed.
She smiled
and was calm while the club subwoofers made the air all around purr.
She
confessed her wish. I decided it was a worthy one.
And
together we left the party.
The End