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