As I said at the end of the last post, Belle takes off for a few days on Sunday morning. This is particularly crushing for me since we’re really into each other right now. My assumption is this is some kind of lunar or hormonal rhythm thing, but I’m neither questioning nor complaining.
I told my Belle Fille last night while making dinner that I really needed some quality time with her again before she left. Sunday mornings have recently been a highly reliable time of the week where the lack of job, kid, or trainer obligations coincide with an increased energy level on her part. If she’s not on the rag, I can usually depend on some kind of bunny lovin’ before we start our day. But, this week, she’ll be leaving and the hole her absence leaves both in my heart and schedule has been hard to accept. All I really needed was to feel her come to sate me until she gets back.
Happily, she wanted to come. And, it turned out, a bunch more. She unexpectedly stripped down leaving me to discover her nakedness. My usual state when going to bed is to be naked, so we basked for a while in the sensations of the full length of one another’s skin pressed against each other, with the small exception of the well-packed steel about midway down.
“What if I unlocked you?” Hell, yes. What if? Oh, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease unlock me. And she did. I shall remain unlocked until she leaves or feels I need to be in again. I am a spoiled rabbit.
My Belle has a long refractory period. Girls don’t usually have to recharge following orgasm like guys do, but my Belle is special. So, going for three orgasms even in six days would be a challenge. But, it was a challenge I was happy to accept.
After the penis was released, we laid beside one another some more, this time with a hard and poky member between. Her hands on the penis was heavenly and I realized how well she’s used the device to manipulate my desire for her recently. Note that I’m perfectly happy being manipulated in this way. I said as much to her.
“I love how this makes me feel,” I breathed out between kisses, “I love how this makes me act toward you.”
“I love how this makes me feel,” she replied through her wonderfully full and fragrant lips, “I love how this makes us.”
Yes, exactly. Sacrificing my orgasm and free access to the penis in exchange for a stronger and more intense emotional bond seems a bargain in my book. I never ever want to be anything other than totally sexually controlled by her.
She climbed on top of me and guided the rigid meat home. The heat and ease with which it slid in made me gasp as she settled down to business. But this wasn’t the usual fuck for her. Instead of quickly finding her rhythm and riding me to a relatively quick orgasm, she lingered. Slowly moving up and down of the shaft, luxuriating in the sensation of being penetrated by her cock. There was no rush. There was no reason. This was about the ride, not the destination.
“I’m acting like you,” she said about half way along, meaning this was fucking for fucking’s sake. She had no motivation other than to enjoy it.
I soldiered along. Sucking her tits, nibbling at her neck, running my hands down her back and over her ass, I tried to contrate on everything other than her gyrating hips and the pussy between them and the part of me the whole kit was enveloping. I wanted to go for however long she needed me to, but I don’t think I made it longer than eight or ten minutes. The thing that finally got me (what can almost always get me) was what she said. She repeatedly told me how good I felt inside her using language her mother would not find acceptable. Thing is, it’s really hard to cultivate a nascent small penis humiliation fetish when your partner tells you every chance she gets how awesome she thinks your erection is. So yeah, I had to stop.
But it was just for a moment. She rolled on her back and told me to fuck her instead. I did as commanded as best I could, withdrawing at least three times to clench back an impending rush of semen. Twice, I managed to keep it in, but once I didn’t and thick slug of the pungent goo landed on the sheets. Regardless, I went back in because she wanted to feel me in there.
As I fucked her, she was constantly moving beneath me, gyrating and reciprocally thrusting and generally really getting into our sex like a hormonal coed. I found myself feeling oddly non-subbie. Yes, she still owned my orgasm, but I felt like I owned her. She was my woman. I cradled her head while slowly fucking her, one hand in her hair, the other holding her jaw. I nibbled, kissed, and cooed at her. I felt like my larger male frame was shielding her. I could feel my ass muscles flex and contract as I repeatedly claimed her with every thrust. My fucking woman.
It was weird. I haven’t felt that in a while.
One more close call in which I leaked inside her caused her to push me off. She still hadn’t come even though we had been going at it for a half hour. This is highly unusual. Even more that she was at an impasse as to what to do next. She wanted to come but couldn’t figure out how.
Sensing that she needed me to take a little more control over the situation, I said, “Can I go down on you?”
She purred at the suggestion at first but than said, “But you’re in there. You don’t like that…”
“I love it until I come,” I reminded her before heading south.
Her pussy was open and soft from the fucking and smelled and tasted like both of us. I eagerly tucked in and lapped up whatever juices I could, swallowing repeatedly the ample supply. I can’t tell you how much was her and how much was me, but it was all heaven. I reveled in the messy, sticky, humid and heat of her. As the minutes passed, I found myseld determined to make that pussy come if it was the last thing I’d ever do. Eventually, she did. Intensely. Electrically. But I lingered. As soon as her clit’s hypersensitivity had passed, I rubbed my whole face in her. I deeply inhaled her scent and could feel a powerful masculine response from a deeply encoded place. My fucking woman.
As I got up, I rubbed the excess moisture from my face all down my chest and stomach. Like I was using her essence as war paint. I wanted her everywhere on me. I didn’t even ask before reentering her and I continued to fuck her, slowly and gently, long after she came. It took a while, but the submissive resurfaced and I started to feel guilty for claiming such indulgence without her consent. She didn’t seem to mind, though. It wasn’t until she was pinching my nipples with all the force she could muster and biting my neck (leaving faint yet obvious monkey bites), that I crested one final time. Our long, wet, sticky, smelly and wonderfully glorious weeknight lovemaking session was over.
Well, for her. I was trapped in the hormonal spin cycle and could feel the entire night sleeplessly stretched before me. This time, though, before it got too late, I downed a couple of Tylenol PMs and was able to salvage four hours of very weird sleep. Weird in that my body chemistry pushed me in one direction while the pharmaceuticals pulled in the opposite direction.
Eventually, sleep. Then, too early, wake. Now, tired. But happy.