Written by Damian (June 2000)
Their office affair had gone beyond what they each initially expected.
At first they each thought it would last for a few months and end, as they were each married and knew that their prior obligations prevented anything further. But now it had gone on for four years. Each was now so comfortable with the other that they could hardly imagine life any other way.
Their age difference meant nothing; the danger of the relationship meant nothing. If anything, they would risk everything to protect what had developed between them over the years. They were totally at ease with one another. They had each thought things between them would eventually cool, they instead had become better, it was now almost impossible for them to keep their hands off one another, and their rendezvous were looked to with excited anticipation. They needed one another as they had never needed another.
In the last six months their hunger for each other spiraled dangerously, despite all the distractions that entered their lives, or maybe because of them. Any day that they were in each others physical presence resulted in some kind of sexual contact or conversation, usually both.
On days that they were separated, they spoke on the phone, conversations filled with sexual overtones and double entendres. There was even an occasional weekend call, a practice that was strictly forbidden in their attempt to keep the secret. He reflected on this as he lay on the couch in the lake house, his head in her lap, as they both stared quietly into the fire.
He wore only a pair of gray sweat pants, she an oversized L.L. Bean chamois shirt. Their sparse dress left them comfortably warm despite the cold upstate New York March weather outside because the little wood stove that provided all the charm of a fireplace also contributed the warmth of a high efficiency-heating unit. In fact, the problem with the stove was that it could get too hot, the temperature now hovered around eighty degrees.
They had arrived about five after an odyssey of a business trip, squeezing two stops into one day, thereby earning a free day together. Their spouses were informed that there was more business the next day, but they planned to sleep in late and simply enjoy one another on this rare occasion.
On arrival around six, he went through his preparation ritual, started the fire, turned on the hot water, cleared away snow, carried in the luggage and firewood, and generally transformed the camp from a semi frozen meat locker into the warm outpost in the wilderness that was his favorite place in the world, made all the more perfect by her presence.
She sat huddled on the couch as the fire took hold and the temperature rose through the forties to a more bearable sixty. In front of the fire, though, wrapped in a blanket, the house was already amazingly comfortable even for someone with her aversion to the cold. She watched him scurrying about, admiring his still trim and athletic figure, the way he moved and the precision in which he went about his tasks.
She knew he would refuse any offers of help, so she sat still, fantasizing to herself about how good she would feel as his cock slipped into her for the first time tonight, how she could relax by giving herself to him, how she would feel as he came into her with the enthusiasm that she so enjoyed receiving, that he would exhibit in no other context than with her.
She had spent long periods of time contemplating the effect that this man had on her. It was not as if he was her first lover, or even the emancipating second love. Once she reached college she had been extremely sexually active. In the days before AIDS, in the free and easy late seventies and early eighties she had many men, so many that she was not really sure if she could recall all of the names.
There had been one night stands that she tried to forget, short affairs, liaisons with leading men in the theater group she was in, sometimes even something more meaningful. She now realized that most of these relationships had to do with her own self esteem, that she so much wanted to be wanted at that vulnerable time. She had been rejected by men, she had rejected men. But all of these men, including her husband, had never had the effect on her that this man had.
When he entered a room, her first thought was one of amazement that she could have him, that he was hers for the taking. Her second reaction would be physical; she would feel the wetness in her pussy preparing her to satisfy her intense craving for him. If they were out in public she would scan the room and reach the invariable conclusion that he was the most desirable man there. If she could choose anyone, she would choose him.
Not only that, but he was the only one for whom she would have sexual daydreams. In his presence she often had trouble getting her mind to focus on anything but taking off his clothes. She had never felt such things before, and at first thought herself weird, insane, somehow possessed. It was only when he described similar feelings for her that she felt better, although she still attributed such thoughts to men, not women.
The sex had been unbelievable for her from the first. Early in their relationship she had been so nervous, so insecure, that she had not allowed herself to enjoy him fully. But she came to crave the kiss he would give to her neck, the way he stroked her cheek, his tongue running over and around her nipples; she knew he was something special to her, that they had some kind of connection that she had never before experienced. She knew that as soon as she psychologically surrendered to him she would never be able to resist him. And when she did, she knew she had been right.
For almost five years she had been having orgasms that she had previously only imagined as being possible. She knew she would give herself to him anywhere and, in fact, she had given herself to him everywhere, cars, elevators, bathrooms, offices, hotels, boats, trains, dormitory rooms, his house, her house, inside, outside. But of all the places this was the one that she most enjoyed. Here in the off season they were absolutely safe, absolutely alone, and could absolutely concentrate their attentions on one another.
And here she sat, waiting for him to come to her, knowing that he would, wishing that he would hurry. She lay back on the couch, keeping herself covered by the quilt, thinking about how he would approach her tonight. Jobs finally done, he sat on the floor between the wood stove and the couch, a small area since the couch was placed no more than six feet from the stove.
His back rested against the couch, within inches of her face. They chatted lightly about how long it would be until the house warmed, about what they would eat, and how they would spend the next eighteen hours, hours which they had been looking forward to for weeks, hours which they treasured, to be spent slowly so that they could receive their maximum benefit.
"I know exactly what I'd like to do now," he whispered to her.
"And what might that be?" She responded in a breathy tone, hoping he wanted what she knew he would. He turned toward her and kissed her lightly on the lips, then moved the succeeding kisses slowly about her face.
He stayed seated on the floor, now turned toward her as he worked his way down her neck, under her chin, around the side of her face and down behind her ear. From there he worked the back of her neck, behind and under her long sensuous hair, slowly back to her face. When he reached her mouth they kissed deeply, neither wanting it to end.
She knew he was by far the best kisser that she had ever met. When he kissed her she could feel the joy he felt as his tongue explored her mouth, gently met her tongue, tumbled over her teeth. She never knew a man who so enjoyed kissing a woman, who was so willing to linger so long in the activity, who saw kissing as sensuous in and of itself rather than as a means to a goal.
Kissing's intimacy was never so clear, he had taught her a lesson she would never forget, and she would now compare all that were or would be to this standard. She knew it would be unfair to the competitors.
Somehow, their kissing had increased the room temperature perceptibly. She no longer needed the blanket, although he was conscientious in keeping her covered. He moved his left hand under the blanket and while kissing her long and deep, slowly unbuttoned her blouse, one button at a time, with almost maddening deliberence. She couldn't wait for his touch on her now heaving breasts.
He let his hand slip under her bra taking her left nipple between his forefinger and thumb. He then ran that forefinger in a circular motion, barely grazing her nipple, then let his hand move to her breast bone, where he paused and in what he always made look like a simple maneuver, unsnapped her bra, freeing her from her self inflicted bondage and giving him free access to her. He kissed her neck, lingering between there and her collar bone. She gasped for air, moaning slightly as her excitement grew.
This was what she had been waiting for; this was what she could not get out of her mind, what she risked everything for, what she lived for, and what was now consuming her very being. She gasped audibly when his tongue reached her nipple, as he took her into his mouth and sucked eagerly as if he was her child.
He had simultaneously moved his left hand down the right side of her rib cage, across her breast, down her body, pausing at her flat, taut belly, while he checked to see how tight her skirt was around her waist. As he reached the top of her pubic hairline he realized things would be much more comfortable if he loosened the skirt now, and he backtracked along the waistband keeping in soft contact with her smooth skin.
She wished he would hurry, but knew he would not; she so enjoyed the tension that developed and would not change a thing. As the waistband snap and zipper came undone, he returned to her pubic area, tracing its outline with his finger. He tenderly reached in, and found her to be perfectly lubricated for his entry.
He would wait as long as he possibly could before he accepted her invitation, because by now he was so excited that he knew he would come explosively in only a few strokes. Before he did, he would make sure that she would want to rest in his arms while he recovered so they could resume their passion.
His finger now found the button of her clitoris, toward the top of her now thrusting vagina. He slowly circled the point, much as he had her nipple minutes before, and her moans became steadily louder, and he knew that she would soon be screaming in the ecstasy which meant everything to him, that was more important to him than his own orgasm.
He alternately sucked on both of her breasts, the nipples of which were now hard and enlarged in anticipation of what was to happen, and he moved back to her mouth holding her head in his right hand, kissing her deeply while kneeling before her. His finger continued to circle her spot and he kissed behind her ear as she began chanting
"Oh yes...Oh yes...Oh yes...." and then she erupted into uncontrollable spasms which passed through her body like waves, emanating from her vagina but enveloping her whole body in the ultimate pleasure, in a sensation of which she never tired, a feeling that brought within her a need to reduplicate, the sooner the better.
She collapsed back, spent and exhausted, secure in the knowledge that he was not through, that as great as this was, it was only the beginning for her tonight. It was this knowledge that made her so comfortable in his arms, this knowledge that so entangled her with him, that made him so indispensable to her.
He pulled away from her so he could see the smile of satisfaction he knew would be on her lips, lips that he now wanted again, more than ever. She lay back enjoying the aftershocks, which still caressed her body, her hand on his shoulder, as she tried to stay in contact with him.
"I think you liked that," he whispered.
"I did, I did, I always like that."
"Then you'll probably like this," he said as he began kissing his way down her body.
She loved the way he would keep the passion alive. For him there was no end, an orgasm or two or three was not the end, merely a point in a continuing experience. When he proceeded past her belly button she realized where he was going and said, almost pleading,
"Oh no, wait, I need to rest a few minutes."
He ignored her and continued to caress her body under the blanket that he kept wrapped around her to ensure her warmth. He removed her skirt and panty hose, freeing her from the final constraints of the real world. She had tilted her hips to allow him to slip off her clothes, almost concurrently with her request to allow her to rest. He knew when her protests were feigned.
When his mouth reached her pussy he was rewarded with the sweet wet taste that he so enjoyed, a taste that he anticipated with such expectation. He rested his head against her slim thigh, kneeling before her as she lay on the couch, his right hand under her buttocks, while his left hand gently separated her legs. She cooperated with his every move, she knew what he wanted from experience, she knew her cooperation would bring her more pleasure, and she lay back to enjoy whatever it was that he had planned.
He was licking the lowest point on her vagina, every so slowly moving upward, alternately licking both lips while working toward her clitoris. When he got there, he turned his head sideways and let his tongue pass over the spot, constant, increasing the pace in almost imperceptible degrees. She stroked his head with one hand, and her own thigh with the other. He removed his right hand from under her and cupped her left breast fully, massaging the soft but firm gland.
Like all but a few women, she had grown up thinking that she wasn't large enough, a sentiment that had been constantly reinforced by her husband. But with him, here, she felt more than adequate, as he treated her breasts like the treasures they were, so respectfully fondling, licking, and sucking them in exactly the way she wished he would. To him her breasts were perfect, firm, always pressing against the tight shirts or sweaters that she wore, or peaking out of semi unbuttoned shirts. To him, heaven would be resting his head between them, alternately sucking on each.
She did not really need much rest. She could feel the sensation returning, the special kind of tension that told her exactly where she was going. She found it incredible that he so enjoyed her response. She had originally written it off to his being considerate, she would accept his token and would promise herself that she would make it up to him in equal measures.
But now she had decided that this was the way a good lover treated his partner, she now understood that her enjoyment need not be returned quid pro quo, that he derived separate and independent pleasure from her own satisfaction. She had learned how to enjoy herself, to accept sex for itself rather than as a competition. No one here was keeping score, pleasure was the only goal, and each was assured that pleasure would be theirs.
He could also feel her orgasm approaching. Her breathing had changed, her moans had increased, and she had once again become a cheering section in her own personal Olympics. Each stroke of his tongue brought her more pleasure, as it made him increasingly aware of the power he held over her. Each stroke brought promise; each brought the joint need for the next. As his pace increased, so did hers. Her hips thrust toward him, again and again, and he had to use care so as not to unintentionally hurt her as she thrust toward his mouth.
"Oh!.., Ohh..!, Ohhh�!, Ohhhh�!....Ahhh!�. Ahhhhh!," and the screams, primeval in nature, as the orgasm raged through her body, this time forcing her to sit bolt upright, the orgasm taking control of her body as well as her mind. He continued to lick her, putting his arm around her back as she bent over him.
As the waves continued, seemingly getting stronger until she did not know if she could stand any more, and she tried to push him away. He resisted, until she fell back in complete exhaustion, unable to move, limp, allowing the climax to subside. He kissed his way back from her pussy to her mouth, kissing her deeply. She whispered, "Oh my God" into his ear.
He held her tightly and whispered back, "We're not through yet."
She knew that. What was coming was what she had wanted all along, the main course after the appetizers had been served. She knew he would soon be inside her, deep and tight. So deep that it would sometimes hurt, but in a way that she enjoyed. She could never quite describe it, but it was a pain that was exquisite in its pleasure. Each of his thrusts would bring pain; each pain would bring pleasure.
God, she wanted that; now. He let her catch her breath while he continued to kiss her mouth and neck, occasionally moving to her breasts. He then used his left hand to guide her right hip, turning her over and off the couch, positioning her on her knees facing the couch, bent over at the waist. He put a pillow under her knees so there would be no telltale carpet burns. He massaged her back, so soft and sexy.
She wasn't sure at first what he had in mind, but her trust of him was so complete that he could do anything to her. Anything. She didn't care. If he wanted it, she would give it. She would capitulate to his every whim, and she could say that because she knew him so well. He would never hurt her; he was so considerate to her that her safety was assured. So when he moved her to her knees she knew she would enjoy whatever was next. He slipped his eager cock into her wet vagina from behind.
This had become her favorite position. She had been taken like this over tables and desks, beds and chairs, but only by him. He would hold her breasts with both hands, or her thighs, and she would pivot so that their mouths would reach and they could kiss deeply, while she could feel him deep inside of her. They would truly be one. Her pain and pleasure would be at its ultimate, and she would experience such pleasure while giving him exactly what he wanted. They were perfect together.
He was always careful with the first thrust. Once he had driven in recklessly, unable to control his desire for her and she recoiled in pain, and although she did not complain, he made a note to be careful. So the first thrust needed to be slow and constant. Maybe not all the way, but in increasing half inch increments until it was all hers. Then she could take it. Then she could handle all he had. Then her moans would be in pleasure as each thrust brought her to her ultimate peak.
He knew that he could not last very long. His ability to sustain the actual sexual act was purely situational. There were times that he could control his own orgasm indefinitely, and there were times that he would come in ten or twelve strokes, without any ability to restrain himself. This situation was more of a ten-second event. He knew he was with the sexiest woman who walked the face of the earth.
She was giving him her exquisite body without hesitation, anyway he wanted. He could watch her reactions to his initiatives. He could see her beautiful breasts, her firm thighs, the almost bony waist, her tight ass. He had watched as she came twice, the second time harder than the first, each time with such grateful appreciation of what he had done for her. And if he could hold on now, he could watch her come for the third time, and even if he couldn't he knew that she would soon be ready to try again, and would give him the reaction that he so much enjoyed.
He found her pussy with his right hand, while he pressed his fully erect cock against it from below. He rubbed it against the entry point, as she spread her legs to accommodate him. She was now whimpering softly, "Oh god, oh please, oh yes, oh, please, I want it so much, oh, you're so good to me, you're so good, oh, please, fuck me , oh please fuck me,�yes,�.yes."
It was the last thing he needed in his fight against the orgasm that he was so desperately trying to delay. Her pleas turned him on all the more, firing the passion that he was so trying to resist.
The first stroke had been like heaven. She felt so good, tight around his engorged organ, tensing against each stroke of his penis, as each successive thrust pushed him deeper into her. He knew how rare it was that two people could so enjoy each other, in which two people could so closely want the same thing, so earnestly, so thoroughly. A couple who totally enjoyed sex together, who would go to any lengths to please one another, while pleasing themselves at the same time.
His love for her was so complete, the closeness that he felt so overwhelming, that it was impossible to put his feelings for her into words, as much as he wanted her to hear them. Instead, he was left with the ever increasing desire to please her sexually, in more and more different ways, or in old ways that he knew she enjoyed.
She could feel her third orgasm approaching, and she could also feel the increasing urgency of his thrusts so that she knew that he was almost used up. She wanted to have him come in her, so she could feel the excitement her body had given him. She also wanted to come together so much that she put too much pressure on herself, trying to hurry herself along, as she sometimes did at home to get sex over with.
Here she wanted what she rarely had, and she was trying to get it after having come twice in the last hour. She desperately tried to purge her mind of all these thoughts and to simply enjoy the sensations that were emanating from between her legs, that would bring both of them such great happiness.
He was in a frenzy, trying to hold back. He was thrusting fast and furiously into a perfectly sized pussy that held him so tight that his slightest motion would stimulate the senses of the entire outer surface of his organ. He found himself fighting a battle that he knew he would eventually lose, but one that he hoped would bring her the third orgasm of the night. "One more time, one more time, one more time..." he thought to himself, but the fight was over. He came explosively into her, so hard that he almost expected her to choke on the fluid that he had just sent coursing through her perfect body. There were several spasms, but the first was the best. He could feel the semen stream out under enormous pressure. He hoped that she could feel the difference so that she would be aware of just how excited she had made him, how much he wanted her always.
His groans indicated to her that he had come. He tried to go on, as he often did, sometimes bringing her orgasm on after his, but this position left no room for such cheating. A fully erect penis was a necessary tool to continue. He might be able to continue in the missionary position, but here more was necessary.
She had almost come as he did. The sound of his orgasm alone was almost enough to set her off again. She could feel his shudders. She knew she had pleased him, and it was a feeling that she loved, she knew she had made him feel like no other could. And at that moment she felt closer to him than ever before. Having him come like that was as thrilling to her as her own orgasm. He was hers. The only thing she wanted now was to hold him in her arms.
In the hour and a half that they had been making love the cottage had warmed. He picked her up from the floor, laying her on the couch and laid his naked body next to hers, wrapping his arms around her and intertwining their legs. They laid there for several minutes, kissing and looking into each others eyes, smiling in the pleasure they had each given and received. They didn't have to talk to one another about what just happened, they knew. They knew that their lovemaking could not get better, but they knew that it would. They knew that they could never give themselves to anyone else as they had just given themselves to each other.
Both had tears in their eyes as they drifted off to sleep. He loved to fall asleep in her arms, usually a short nap from which he would want to resume their play. She was sometimes so exhausted that she thought she could sleep for hours, but she always found the strength to continue. In about a half hour he got up, covered her gently with the blanket, and kissed her on the forehead,
"Keep sleeping, I'll start diner."
He threw a few new logs into the stove, put his sweats on and started to prepare a salad. They would have steak and potatoes that they had picked up on the way in. Although she was a gourmet cook, she was actually a steak and potatoes person, one of the few women he knew that was so inclined. Of course the fact that she weighed a mere 108 pounds on a five foot three inch frame helped.
She rarely needed to watch what she ate, so she could eat what she liked. He threw on his coat, exited through the sliding glass door and started the gas grill. There was nothing like a mid winter barbecue. He would wake her when everything was ready. He opened a bottle of Beaujolais and let it breath while the diner cooked.
She awoke to a completed dinner, and they sat down to eat. Both were starved and ate every scrap, both couldn't keep their eyes off the other while they ate. He had given her the dark green chamois shirt when she awoke, which she had put on, buttoning only one or two buttons in the middle. During diner he could catch glimpses of her nipples. He couldn't believe how much he wanted her again. He cleaned up, while she sat back enjoying the kind of service that she had never received at home.
She thought that he was very particular about such things, almost dictatorial in the way he wanted things to be done. He thought that was not even close to reality, that he was very flexible in terms of house maintenance and clean up. Either way, she liked what she saw and she enjoyed watching him take care of her.
The room temperature had steadily increased, and she settled on the couch, wine in hand staring out the sliding glass doors to the darkness beyond, where the lake lay frozen beneath the snow. Light flakes fell, and they both found themselves again wishing that a massive blizzard would maroon them for a week.
He soon joined her on the couch, lying in her lap, while she stroked his face with her hand, staring out the window, fighting off tears. She wished that this was her life, that she could have this man for her own, here, that she could take care of him and him alone, as he did the same for her. Whenever she let these thoughts enter her psyche, she became sad, wishing for what could not be. She tried desperately to not let this happen when she was with him, because he would always notice, and when he did he would try to get her to talk about it and it would all to often come out wrong. There were many uncertainties in her life, but the one certainty that she did have was her love for him, and it was so great that she could hardly bear it.
He could feel her shapely thighs against his face as he peered into the fire. He knew that their happiness would sink into depression if they allowed themselves the luxury of thought. Their relationship was so hurried most of the time that they did not have the moments of silence in which they could just contemplate their lives.
When they did, it always hurt, because they so desperately wanted each other. The conversation that they would have always led to the same place, they had to accept what they had, because anything else was so unpalatable to them, would hurt others that they loved, and thereby hurt themselves. They each tired to avoid these moments.
He had lowered the stove's draft in an attempt to control the temperature, which was now about seventy-eight degrees. The change effected the flame pattern, which changed from a hectic pace as the flames ripped at the wood within to a now languid action in which the flames lightly caressed the log's surface in a blue flame. "Hun, look at the fire, isn't that neat?" he said, breaking through her thoughts, thankfully changing the downward spiral which had begun.
"What do you mean? she asked.
"Well, look at the way the flame is slowly working it's way over the wood, almost like its licking the outer surface of the logs. Its almost like foreplay."
"Only you would make that connection.
"Maybe, but what do you think, am I right?"
She looked into the fire for a moment, took a slow sip of wine, and watched as the flame continued its erotic action, almost hypnotic in its dance.
"You know, you are right, it is like that."
"I thought so, kind of sexy, wouldn't you say?"
"Do you think that you could duplicate that kind of action?" she said as she unbuttoned the few buttons that she had attached on the shirt and let it fall away from her exquisite body.
"I would sure like to try, let me know how I am doing."
"Oh, I think you'll know."
"I hope so," he said as he turned his face toward her, kissing her softly on the line of her pubic hair, slowly licking and kissing her from there to her waist as he moved upward over her tight body, inch by inch. When he reached her sternum he moved under her left breast, to her left rib cage and worked his way back down to her waist, across her taut belly to her right side, then slowly back up to her breast.
His hands held her hips, and now he could feel her separate her legs slightly, and he knew exactly what she was inviting. But first he wanted her breasts, and he cupped her right breast in his left hand while he rolled his tongue around and around her areola. His right hand moved across her thigh, once again finding the sweet warmth of her pussy, soft and wet in anticipation of what was to follow. He stroked her clitoris while he sucked her nipples, alternating between her breasts to make sure she was symmetrically ready.
She wasn't sure how she wanted to come. With him she really had little preference. With all the rest there was only one way and she would have to hope that they would select the right way and have the patience to please her. She had always been too shy to ask for what she wanted, and even now, despite his encouragement, since he found such requests incredibly sexy, she would rarely state any preference. She could not detach herself from the thought that a request would sound demanding, or worse yet domineering. Of course such worries had little basis in fact.
Domineering was not a trait that could even remotely be attributed to her. As assertive as she could be in the business world, in sex with him she preferred his leadership. She knew he would satisfy her, so the means that he chose was really irrelevant. She knew that when they were done she would be left, exhausted, feeling closer to him than any human being in the world, wanting him to be hers so badly that it hurt, wanting him and him alone forever. And that was what made sex with him so perfect. There was simply no possibility that she would be left frustrated, as had been the case with so many others. So she would do anything he wanted, or she thought he might like, because in the end she knew that she would be writhing in at least one, and more often, multiple orgasms which would leave her with the inner peace that sex alone could bring her.
Now she could feel the orgasm approaching as she felt the familiar waves enveloped her vagina. He had moved to her lap and was now exerting ever so delicate pressure on her clitoris with bold stokes of his tongue. His hands had moved to her breasts, stroking her nipples in countless different ways. She braced herself against the corner of the couch, her left foot on the floor, her right leg bent at the knee, resting on the couch's the back support. He dove in enthusiastically, and she could hear herself come, her screams seemingly coming from another body, as if she was listening in an adjoining room,"oh..oh..ah..ahhhh..ooooh...ooooh..."
As the orgasm passed through her she knew that she desperately wanted him again. She wanted his cock inside her, she wanted all that he could give her, she wanted to take him deeply, to feel him become a part of her, to experience his pleasure. She shifted herself around, pulling herself away from his face, leaving him laying on the couch on his back, and mounting him from above. She expertly took his hard cock in her hand, guiding it directly to her entryway. She sat above him, taking him in, slowly at first, half, two thirds, three quarters, and then with a scream and a smile, all of him as deeply as she could take him, deeper than she had experienced with any other. She would start slowly, increasing her thrusts onto him until he came and she could collapse on top of him.
He could see her wince as it all went in. This was one of his favorite positions, although he had never found a position that he did not like. He particularly liked this, though, because not only did she demonstrate her absolute desire to fuck him, but he could watch her do it. Like most men he was very visually oriented. He knew if he opened his eyes, watched her take him in, watched her face contort in pleasure, watched her breasts heave and respond to his touch, he would come, violently, in short order.
But he loved to watch her, and saw the sweat form on her brow as she worked so hard over him, watched his dark cock slip between the heaven of her creamy, skinny legs, the shaft at first fully exposed, glistening with her lubrication, as she hovered momentarily above him, then disappearing as she buried it within her tight pussy. He watched his fingers massage her nipples, and could hear her moans, and his own, gain in both volume and frequency.
He knew that he could not last very long at this, he wanted to come right now, but as she brought him to the verge of orgasm he denied himself the release, rolling her over onto her back, trying to stay inside her as he did. She wrapped her legs tightly around him, and he put both his hands under her ass, pulling her closer, pushing himself in as far as he could go, kissing her deeply.
He so much wanted to fuck her into a second orgasm, the special delight that she only shared with him. So now in this hideaway, on this lovely couch, the wood stove warming them, the thawing snow and the icebound lake beyond, they made love in a delicious anticipation of something that was theirs alone.
His deliberate, deep thrusting took hold of her, and she could feel that special orgasm rising within her. She responded in joyous anticipation of not only the unique physical release which they would both soon enjoy, but the emotional bond that would receive yet another credit, that would tie them anew, that would make them closer. They came in unison, grunting, shouting, screaming in delirious enjoyment.
And they held one another tightly, crying tears of joy for the act and their meaning to one another. For it was the bonding, the closeness, and the exquisite intimacy that they felt both as they came and now as they lay in one another�s arms that was the reward for their relationship. It was this feeling that would tie him to her, and her to him, forever.
It was this feeling that made all their risks worthwhile, that told them that the continuation of the relationship was right, and that they would do anything to keep it alive. It was this feeling that had allowed them to continue, against all odds, for four years and would make them continue forever.
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