by Scono Sciuto
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Printed in the United States of America.
Contact the author: SaviorSatin@icloud.com or firstname.lastname@example.org
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s extremely vivid, and at time disturbing, imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Our flirtation has been ongoing for several years. For five long years, for you, I have longed and lusted. To taste you, to join with you, to have my way with you, and for you to have your way with me — today the wait is finally over.
We have had several near meetings, but fear stopped me.
We have had several near meetings, but circumstance stopped us.
We have had several near meetings, but a lack of pledge stopped you.
You want love, that I can not promise, that I will not promise. You want to remain faithful to your husband, you asked me not to push, and for a time, I respected that wish. However, that I can no longer honor.
Your husband has not touched you in so very long. You tell me that want to be touched by a man. You weep to me that your own touch simply will no longer do. You convey to me that you want to again touch a man, that you desire to feel that which makes a man a man. You plead with me that you want to be made to feel like a woman. I assure you that is something I will endeavor to accomplish.
It is the appointed time. After you arrive, I drive around the secluded inn’s parking lot. I make not one pass, not two, but at least ten. I check several times. I am positive you were not followed. I am now positive neither was I. As agreed, I wait for you to enter the room. Once again, just to be sure, I check the lot. No one has arrived since you.
Just watching you sashay from your car sets my heart racing. The rhythmic sway of your perfectly round ass immediately sends blood rushing to one part of my body. God, you are what was intended when He created woman. There is none as perfect, nor as desirable as you.
I rush from my car. I ache for you. However, once at the door, I hesitate. I am nervous, and yes a little scared. Insecurities long forgotten have risen to the surface.
What if you are not satisfied?
What if I can’t fulfil your needs?
What if I am not all that you hoped?
Your perfume hangs in the air. Your scent is exciting. I fumble with my key-card. One swipe, the light remains red. I turn it over and swipe it again. Green, but I wait too long. One more time, green, I turn the knob and push — the door slowly creeps open.
The door is about a quarter of the way open, but I don’t move. I don’t even peek within. For a moment, I think, what if unnoticed you have left? What if you couldn’t go through with our rendezvous?
I peek around the door, but not far enough. Finally, I build up the courage. I walk through the door.
My eyes find you. My racing heart ceases to beat. Clad in black, you are sitting in the chair. Your right leg crossed over the left, the hem of your dress open, exposing both legs. Two symmetrically perfect calves, diamond in shape, beckoning me to come forth. I move onward, your dress clings to your body, rising to your chest, the upper portion of each breast is slightly exposed, a plunging neckline revealing a beckoning cleavage. I have seen this visage in many of your photos, put not a one does justice to what is before me. A silver necklace runs from that cleavage to your beautiful neck. The shiny metal glimmers as your chest rises and falls with each breath. My eyes move up a fraction more. Your smile is bright white. In ancient times, your beautiful face would have launched a thousand ships. So gorgeous, your jet black hair falls around your cheeks, framing that which is nothing short of pure perfection.
You must sense my hesitation. You look over your glasses — a come hither look summons me to move forward. Under your spell, I have but only one choice, and that is to obey.
I cross the floor in a few bounding steps. Before you, I drop to my knees. I bow at the feet of my goddess. You stroke my head. Then without further pause, I undo the straps and remove your sandals.
Starting at your feet, slowly I run my hands up your legs, rubbing each inch of your flesh. Soon my hands are followed by my mouth. Each toe enters and exits my mouth. There is no hurry. There is no sense of urgency. Yes, I want you more than I want air to breath or water to drink, but, I have waited for what was an eternity. I will savor each part of your body. Each bit of skin, each droplet of sweat, each crack and crevice of your body — I will demonstrate adulation for all. When I have finished your feet, I move to your ankles. I suck on the small bony protrusions as if they were the tip of your breasts. Your moans of pleasure assure me that you are pleased. After great effort in an attempt to suck non-existent milk from each malleolus, I move on.
I have worshiped your legs in each and every picture you have sent. I have fantasized many a night as to what I would do when finally, I place my hands upon them. For the better part of an hour I kiss your legs, moving up from each ankle. Each kiss is gentle, and lingers before moving on to the next spot.
My lips effortlessly slide along the slope from your ankle up your calf, and follow as your legs pinch in again at the knee. Your legs remain crossed, so my mouth stops at your knees. At the front of each I make circles, a preview of what will be to come, and from just above your kneecap, I take tiny bites, tugging gently at the skin, sucking what is held between my teeth.
After taking time to thoroughly worship at your knees, you uncross them. I am now kneeling between your slightly parted thighs. Your dress zips in the front, you move the clasp down, exposing a body I have many times imagined seeing unadorned. After due veneration, I once again return my way upward. The flesh of your thighs is cool and inviting and so tasty. Droplets of sweat are forming along your inner thighs. The salinity only adds flavor to the natural deliciousness of which I have been savoring.
I raise my head, look up and stare admirably at that bare glimmering area of heaven I only dreamed I would ever see — let alone touch, let alone taste, let alone enter.
As I continue on my ascent, goal in sight, a sweet scent of pheromone laced sensuality wafts to me. I inhale deeply. My heart is racing — I can feel each beat as it forces itself against my chest. For so long I have desired but a mere taste, and now, so close, soon, I will feast.
I pause but a mere inch from your sexual region. I want to move toward it — I want to ravish that for which I have longed. Yet, fear, anticipation, too much excitement — whatever it is, freezes me. I reach up with my hand, gently I glide the tips of my fingers along the outside. Your skin feels almost perfectly smooth. Slight moisture reflects the sunlight as Sol shines upon Eden.
Your body responds to my touch, your thighs part a bit more, inviting further movement. With both hands, I softly massage the mound of bare flesh on each side which guards your entrance. My hands part your naked flesh. The area is damp and a bit slick. Thankfully, slight bits of stubble assist my grip. Slowly I maneuver each side. Soon they are parted just enough so I may glimpse the supple, light colored inner fruit of which I so desperately yearn to feed.
By scent, by touch, by vision, I am drawn to your waiting erogenous zone. My body trembles — there is apprehension. I have imagined this moment many, many times. I again spread back your soft and sensitive vaginal flesh. I open just a bit more, exposing that for which I so frantically hunger.
I extend my tongue, and with only the tip, I sense your succulent flavor. The taste tingles upon my tongue — not the finest wine, nor the sweetest chocolate, could ever illicit such absolute bliss.
I extended my tongue as far as I can, placing your female erectile tissue as far to the back as possible. I hold downward pressure. Then slowly — very slowly, I retract. Your wetness coats every inch of its surface, the juice of your fruit fills each waiting and wanting taste bud — the essence is like nothing I have ever before sampled.
Once at the tip of my tongue, I enclose your nerve-ending filled protrusion with my lips, gently sucking, even slightly pulling and playfully tugging — all the while keeping the tip of my tongue in contact with the tip of your clit.
I lick with ever increasing energy and speed. As your body starts to quiver, I place my index finger deep within. I curl it so that, through your flesh, it makes contact with my tongue. Your body responds with ever increasing violent spasms. From you lips, sighs become moans, moans become grunts, and grunts become screams. You grind your lower body into my face. Your force is so strong, that in a desperate attempt to not lose contact, against the chair with my free hand, I must brace myself. As your orgasm comes to an end, I slow my pace, yet keep applying even more pressure, coaxing you to a quick succession of orgasms the likes of which I hope you have never before experienced.
The quaking of your body subsides and then finally ceases. Coos replace the screams and shouts. I kiss you there. You are very sensitive. You pull my head away. You beg for a lull.
Grudgingly, I move on. I give one last look and I smile. For even without any contact, your vagina remains trembling.
Your stomach is my next stop. I suck your belly button with so much power, it is as if my goal is to turn your innie into an outie. I give as much attention here as I have to any other part of your body so far. You are such a sexual creature that soon, sighs are again turning to moans. I look down and that perfect spot is again doing a dance.
Without removing my mouth from your navel, I move my hand and quickly vibrate it directly on your sensitive spot. As you experience another orgasm, the quaking in your torso throws my head from your stomach and it lands nestled between your breasts.
I lift my head and get my bearings. I admire your bosom. The pictures you have sent had always prominently exhibited them, however, with just enough covered to push my mind to create unending fantasies. I kiss the skin in between. My mouth and tongue move from breast to breast, sucking at the tip of each nipple, as I gently hold each respective one between my teeth. I can not get enough. Each one requires two hands to hold. They are perfect in shape and texture. The skin here is as sensitive as the skin anywhere else on your body. Although large, I stretch my jaws and I accommodate an entire globe in my mouth. Sucking with all my might to hold it within.
As with your belly button, the response is a dance from below your waist. This time I insert two fingers within. Your pursed lips begging for even deeper entry. I brace the palm of my hand against your pubic bone, and with long, quick motions I push my fingers in and out. My efforts do not produce another orgasm, but none the less, you seem satisfied.
I continue my assent. Each bit of your skin receives a small nibble as I climb your body. Finally, my mouth meets yours. You taste you upon me, the mix of your saliva and vaginal secretion is the sweetest sin.
Our sexual areas are now aligned. I feel your moisture as the hardest erection I have ever possessed makes contact. With no guide from our hands, I find my way in. Slowly, gently and so very easily, finally, after all of these years, I penetrate you.
The head of my sexuality slips past your entrance. As I enter your body, there is a slight sense of resistance. As I overcome that small hump, I nearly climax. Once a bit of me is in, you pull me in the rest of the way. The warmth emanating from within cradles me. The feeling as my body becomes part of yours is so emotional that a tear touches my eye.
I hold myself fully inside of you. Patience was rewarded. I am just where I belong. My passion intensifies. Many nights I have brought myself to ejaculation imaging this very moment. Now it is here, and I want it to last as long as possible. I am reluctant to move. I don’t ever want to leave.
Your body tells me it is ready for more. Your hips thrust up as your legs cross around my back. I begin to move with long, even paced, steady strokes. Your legs pull me in as far as possible, and they prevent me from completely withdrawing.
I am not sure how long we are making love, but I start to feel you tremble and, in me, I feel that familiar sensation that there will be no longer any holding back. My pace remains the same, but the force of each movement forward increases. I try to keep myself from coming, I want to, but at the same time, I don’t — it is difficult. This act with you is more intense, more exciting, and more stimulating than any I have experienced.
I push harder.
I push deeper.
I push with as much power as I can muster.
As the power of each thrust causes your body to sway beneath mine, your legs which were holding me inside, are now fighting to hold you in place beneath my body. The time has arrived. As hard as I clench each muscle of my lower body, there is nothing that will stop me now. I know I can no longer prevent coming. With all the power I can muster, forcefully I thrust myself in as far as I can. Once there, I hold myself steady. My pubic bone applies pressure to your clit. We grind into one another. I bear down even harder. I want us to come together. I feel the fluid begin to ooze forth. I try to stop moving, but that your hips won’t allow. I am done. From deep inside I unleash an ejaculation with such force that it almost forces me from you. Your tightly crossed legs are all that keep me inside. I am disappointed you haven’t come, but that disillusionment soon abates as in quick succession, you achieve several orgasms.
I fall forward.
Still erect, I remain within.
Your arms and legs embrace my body, drawing me in even further.
Even though we stopped coming minutes before, our bodies continue to shutter. Never has so much come from me. Your body can only hold so much and much spills forth, seeping out, leaving evidence upon the chair’s cushion.
As we hold one another, my erection remains unchanged. I have never experienced another such as you. I shift ever so slightly. That action causes me to leave your body. As I drag myself along the slight stubble that dots your opening, unbelievably, I come yet again.
I take you in my arms.
I lift you from the chair.
I hold you tight.
Our bodies are now completely covered in sweat, not a spot of our skin remains dry. I reach my hand down and I rub my seed from your legs. You grab my wrist and bring it to your mouth. You lick from my hand and then grab my head and kiss me. I have never done this before. It is intoxicating. I throw you onto the bed and begin to once again go down on you. Our combined fluids ooze from your body as you become wetter and wetter. I suck with all my remaining effort. I enter you with two fingers, but there is so much sliding that no friction is possible. I add a third and twist my hand in semicircles. I find the perfect combination and once again your body shakes.
You are completely spent, as am I.
I worship you, it is my duty to now care for you.
I lift you from the bed, into the bath I carry you.
Inside the tub I place you.
I fill it with warm water, I set the jets to on and I massage your front as the spa does the same to your back. Soapy water allows my hands to slide across your body unimpeded. I rub and knead every square inch of your form.
When done, I help you from the tub. Our bodies begin to mirror one another. A slow, seductive, tantric tango ensues. For two plus hours, our bodies slightly glide against one another. Our senses are heightened, both of our sexual organs calling to one another, wanting to again be joined.
I take you back onto the bed. I kiss you deeply, passionately, my mouth inhales yours. The early actions repeat themselves, except this time our positions switch many times. Without being aware by either of us, minutes become hours. As orgasms take us both, many times, our physical actions soon cease, yet our souls continue bonding well into the next day.
We stir from our slumber.
You tell me you love me.
I ask you how many men you have cheated with on your husband. You do not answer. I tell you it is at least as many with whom I have broken my previous vows.
You tell me this is different.
You tell me again, that you love me.
You ask me if I feel the same.
I tell you we are not in love, that for us, we are beyond love. Love is what we have for others. I tell you love is what you had for your husband. It is that obligation from a long gone emotion, it is that reason you will go from our bed to his.
You look down at the floor. I reassure you that there is nothing wrong, that together we are different. For us, we can’t be bound by an earthly definition. We are outside that type of love. Foolhardy fidelity and faithfulness are chains of bondage. It is that which confines us to relationships that years ago should have ended. It is not bad, it is an obligation we respect, at times fulfilling, more times though, suffocating. So we are driven to explore. We are driven to find more than that to which we are shackled.
We remain, yet we do not live within the confines of an outdated commitment. We exist to freely express and experience. I tell you I expect no exclusivity from you, and give no word of promise in return. How could we ask for something of which we so willingly are not beholden to. Either current or previous, neither of us has kept that promise, do we really expect that if made to one another, this time it is an oath we will keep.
We are faithful to our unfaithfulness. Therefore, instead of the restrictions of man-made marriage, we exist in a plane of our own making. We were together before, we are together now, and no matter what happens or who we go home to, our souls will be together tomorrow.
I kiss you deeply.
I make love to you once again.
We are forever, faithfully unfaithful.
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