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“Michael, oh Michael…”
All this fun with my tongue had given my stallion the time it needed to become fully erect again and now I would have what I’d wanted from the instant I had first seen her. I kissed my way back up her body, making sure to stop at her breasts and give them both another good sucking, then moving to her lips her legs wrapped themselves around me as we tasted each other on our lips, my cock rubbing ever so gently against the edges of her sex.
“My God your good with your tongue”, she exclaimed between kisses.
“Well if you liked that”, I smiled, “you’re gonna love this!”
I slid the head of my rock hard stallion inside the gentle perfection of her sex, and I began to pump into her as slowly as my will would allow me to.
“Oh God, Michael, it feels just as perfect as it looks! Please, you don’t have to be so gentle, take me all the way now!”
I began pumping into her until I was buried as deep in her as I could be, my hips furiously thrusting with everything I could muster. She began to orgasm again and I only quickened my pace, inspired by my success with this goddess.
“Oh God Michael! Let me be on top, I promise I’ll ride you until you cry!” Without slowing my pace I laughed, “that might be a very long time!”
“God, I hope so!” she breathed.
I let her roll me over and now Gillian was on top of me, furiously pumping herself against my heavenly shaft while my hands were free to fondle her ass and her perfect chest. I stared up at this perfect image of a woman, her red hair sticking to her as the sweat poured off our bodies. Her breasts bobbing up and down as she rode me. And her sex, riding my cock with an unquenchable thirst to be filled with me. Soon she orgasmed again, her third time and I knew I wouldn’t last much longer. The heat in my penis was so much that I just had to explode. I needed to cum in this woman or I would die.
“Oh Jesus Gillian, give me everything you’ve got! I’m gonna cum for you!”
She wasted no time in upping her tempo to something I didn’t even know was humanly possible and in no more than a minute I began to explode wave after wave of my semen deep into the very core of her being. Feeling my juice inside her took her over the edge as well, and we lay there on top of each other, moaning, grasping, and gasping for breath as we both touched heaven for a fleeting moment before finally collapsing beside each other, exhausted.
We just held each other close for quite a while, not wanting to say anything to spoil the feelings that we both were having just then. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. There was something I had to ask.
“Gillian?”
“Yes, Michael?”
“Why?”
She rolled over, propping herself up on one elbow and stared right at me with those perfect blue eyes. She smiled the biggest smile she’d had all day then leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Because I can, Michael. Because I can.”
- COMMENTS
Anonymousabout 19 years agoLet me preface my comment by saying that I'm a big Gillian Anderson fan as well. Not that I sit around fantasizing about her like this, but let's just say that nine years of frustrating X-Files circumlocutions would have been a lot more difficult to ignore were it not for Agent Scully's beauty and brains.
However, if the idea of your story was to plausibly depict how an average twenty-one year old guy would end up in the romp of a lifetime with his fantasy woman, you failed to deliver the goods.
Not that such a depiction would be easy in any case. Having, for example, Ms. Anderson simply throw herself at Michael would have been quasi-misogynistic and run the risk of triggering your readers' uncontrollable giggling. But that angle would at least have brought into play possible motivations on her part that might have been sufficiently believable to ease the reader's suspension of disbelief.
Say, that she had recently found out that her husband had been cheating on her, and she was getting a "revenge fuck"; or that she had been feeling lonely and depressed and the car accident, and Michael being uninjured and so nice to her, brought about an impulsive need for emotional companionship that "got a little out of hand." Even, "Duchovny and I wanted a foursome tonight and he's already contracted a hooker" would have worked, given that the story *was* set in Vancouver.
But come on - Gillian goes upstairs to "slip into something more comfortable" and Michael becomes a bumbling peeping tom? Why would he do that? Even the most naive, virginal "shy guy" would recognize the sexual chemistry that was already developing (as evinced by Ms. Anderson removing her bra) and wait with a gut full of butterflies until she returned to the kitchen. What he *wouldn't* do is follow her upstairs and furtively feel her up with his eyes.
And what *she* wouldn't do is get turned on by it; I mean, I don't know Ms. Anderson, so I can't say this authoritatively, but in that setting, if a woman was feeling turned on, I can't imagine anything that would kill that desire faster than her prospective lover turning into a dime-store perv. It'd give her the creeps, and she'd toss him out on his ass - and (remember the automobile collision?) probably sue him after all for good measure.
You built a bridge to "the promised land," but it collapsed in mid-transit.
Better luck next time.
