tagNovels and NovellasFlowerless Valentine Ch. 02

Flowerless Valentine Ch. 02

byBettyBlue©

It was still dark when I woke up. Her arse nestled neatly in my lap. I had my arm curled around her waist and my hand cupped one of her heavy, round breasts. She felt so soft and warm I shifted closer, resting my cheek against her hair. She smelled of vanilla and sex. My nostrils flared.

I stroked her nipple with my thumb. She had fucking fabulous tits. I'd hoped she would. Generous and strawberry-tipped. She did her best to cover the fact up when she was working. Well you would, wouldn't you? If you worked on an army barracks? Some squaddies would nail anything in a skirt without thinking twice. I should know. But that's what you get when you're young, dumb and full of...testosterone.

She stirred, wriggling her arse closer to me. I closed my eyes and inhaled her sweet scent as my cock sprang to life again. How many times now? Three? No, four - counting the alley. I remembered our first sexual encounter and grew harder. What a woman! If I'd known it would be like that I'd have thrown her over my shoulder the minute I first saw her and carried her off into the sunset. If I'd had any idea how much she was gagging for it...Christ! I felt like the luckiest damn man on earth! I could think of a dozen men off the top of my head who would give their right bollock to be in my position.

I shifted slightly, taking my hand off her breast for as long as it took to adjust my fella into a more comfortable position - resting between her arse cheeks - then returned to stroking her nipple. It was solidly erect now, puckered around the edge and rising to a steep point in the middle. She snuffled lightly in her sleep. I couldn't help rubbing myself lightly against her, half hoping she might wake up. She was probably sore by now, fuck knows she deserved to be after the pounding I gave her last time, but hope sprang eternal.

I licked my fingers and rubbed her nipple between thumb and index. I felt a strong urge to pinch - she seemed to like that when I did it before, but it's a fine line between painful pleasure and outright agony. I contented myself with gently rotating the bud between my fingers. It was incredibly hard to be restrained! She had no idea how fucking sexy she was, and I think the fact our time was limited made me all the more horny. Fifty years wouldn't have been enough - to know we had less than a month if you took work into account, well, it was torture.

I tried not to think about it too much. Someone upstairs had decreed we should meet. They gave us a month and I should have been grateful. I imagined what life would be like without her and it didn't feel good. But still, a tiny part of me felt that a month was a miserly deal. Why not two? Three? Why didn't I meet her a year ago? Ten years ago even?

I sighed, disturbing a lock of her blonde hair. Truth be told I had a feeling whatever time I had with her would leave me feeling wanting when she'd gone.

"It's only, like, six months," she'd said brightly after we'd fucked the third time and lay together sticky with sweat and cum. "I can wait that long if you can."

She didn't quite understand. I mean, don't get me wrong, she had a good grasp of what went on over there - she saw the results when they came home injured, she watched the tele, she wasn't kidding herself. The problem ended up being me. It wasn't about her waiting. I knew she would wait. The problem was the six months in between when I was expected to do my job. I invisaged trying to concentrate knowing she was back here, on her own, getting through each day like a trooper. She deserved better than that - she deserved to have someone looking out for her. And I wanted to be that person but for six months or more I wouldn't be able to. The knowledge gutted me. It would drive me fucking mental.

This protective urge had evolved out of nowhere, somewhere between the alley and now. It made me want to hold her and stroke her and never let her go. It made me want to kill any bastard who so much as looked sideways at her. I wanted to wine her and dine her and treat her like a million quid, like she deserved. I knew fifty years wouldn't be enough, so losing six months of that made me grieve for the loss. It would be six months when I wouldn't wake up next to her with a hard-on I could slip inside her. Six months of going through the day wondering where she was, what she was doing, what she was thinking. Six months of not being able to reach out and touch her, see her eyes dilate, her lips part, and knowing her pussy was growing wet for me.

What the fuck? I could feel my eyes growing damp! I scrubbed at them with the back of my hand. What was it about this woman that could reach every single part of me? Parts no one else ever had: not my family, not any other girlfriend. In the space of a few hours she had managed to entwine herself around every base cell in my body until I had a hard time figuring out where I ended and she began.

She groaned. I lay very still against her, not wanting to wake her up, but the fella downstairs had different ideas. My cock twitched, straining to be closer. I understood. I dropped a kiss on her shoulder, running my tongue up the nape of her neck. Her arse pressed against me. Was that an invitation? I hadn't gone there since the alley. Wanted to give her some time to recover.

My hand slid across her flat belly. I cupped her bare, pubic mound in my palm, prising her smooth pussy lips apart with my middle finger. She was still wet! I pressed against her clit gently, rolling my fingertip around the tiny mound, then dipped further down to wet my finger better before sliding back up and rolling over the nub again.

"Sore," she mumbled sleepily. My hand stilled but her arse pressed against me again. She didn't feel like coming but she wanted something from me. I didn't need to be told twice.

I pushed towards her, rolling her onto her front and lying on top of her, taking my weight on my elbows. With her head turned to one side on the pillow I could see her eyes were still shut but her beautiful mouth curled into a dreamy smile.

"Mmmm," she murmured, "fuck my arse again."

"Okay, princess," I answered, "whatever you say."

I shuffled down the bed so my face hovered above her buttocks. She has an arse like a peach, I thought, so round and juicy! I dipped my tongue in and tasted the salty aftermath of our last coupling, concentrating on sucking and nuzzling her pink star - feeling it clench under my lips. It was still swollen a little and stretched - my tongue slipped in and out without so much resistance. She moaned and shifted under me, turning to bite the pillow so her flatmates wouldn't hear her. She'd done that before. I didn't have the heart to tell her it was a pointless exercise. Most tennement flats have walls like crepe paper and hers was no exeption. Our groans had clearly been heard as the televisions in both the other rooms had creeped inexorably louder along with the level of our orgasms.

I began to use my fingers, though the need was hardly there, sliding my middle finger up to the knuckle and flickering it inside her. She gasped into the pillow. I let spittal trickle from my mouth down over her cleft, rubbing it around her rim, then moved up to lie on top of her again. The veins in my cock stood out in relief and I could feel it pulse with urgency. I was tender as well, but I knew it would be worth it.

"Go on," her muffled voice begged me, "fuck my arse!"

I smiled. I knew I was a privileged man to be going there. She gave no indication at work she was such a filthy bitch, and I felt honoured she could be so with me! At work she looked like butter wouldn't melt - it only added to the thrill of doing what I was about to do. It was our little secret.

Hard as a poker I touched the head of my cock against her star, feeling the resistance but pressing on regardless. Her body held out, then gave way suddenly, sucking me inside once more. I plunged slowly to the base of my shaft, feeling her ring muscle contracting strongly around me. Christ, but it felt good! I bit my lip to stop from crying out, gathering her to me and burying my face in her neck. Her back was slick with sweat right down to the cleft in her buttocks. She shivered and moaned again as I withdrew. I didn't need to ask if she was okay, I knew she would tell me otherwise. I hadn't stopped being impressed by her open mind and willingness to explore new sensations. She was the woman of my dreams in every conceivable way.

I stopped thinking and started fucking - drawing in and out of her tight flesh, slowly at first - then faster as the mating instinct took over. I could no more stop pounding her than I could stop breathing. She rose up on her elbows and I reached around to grasp her rebounding tits, squeezing her nipples hard, pinching and stretching them to their extent then letting go and starting again. She clutched the pillow and threw her head back exposing her creamy throat, not bothering to muffle her cries any longer.

She gasped as my slick, swollen cock plunged and withdrew again and again, gripped and released by her tenderised rim - my balls smacking against her glistening pussy lips.

I felt myself starting to come, felt the quickening in my blood, the roaring of the wave as it crashed over me. I jack-knifed over her, spurting stream after stream of hot, creamy cum into her tight passage, then collapsed on her, panting hard into her hair.

"You're so fucking beautiful," I murmured, limp-limbed and trembling with pleasure, then went to move off her. She reached a hand around and pressed my buttocks down.

"Please, stay," she whispered, "I love you being in me."

So I stayed, until my cock shrank and slipped out of its own accord - resting peacefully between her damp thighs.

That's how we finally fell asleep.

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