The Gift

Helen is not massively endowed in the breast department, but her twin lovelies are beautifully shaped, with sensitive nipples in deep pink areolas. I kissed each one lingeringly, and Helen clutched my head to her, a gasp in her throat.

I unzipped her skirt and slid it down her legs, kissing my way from her breasts to her belly. Lingeringly, I eased her panties down the curving length of her beautiful legs. She stepped out of the pile of clothes, and I picked her up and laid her on the bunk, bending to kiss her breasts again. She shuddered, and then smiled, her eyes smoky. She reached out her hand to me and lay back, spreading her legs.

"Hurry, Steve," she moaned, "I want you."

I threw off my clothes, almost ruining my shirt in my eagerness, then knelt between her spread legs, my prick rigid. Her labia were swollen with her desire and her clitoris was just beginning to peep from its hood. Moisture was visible in her cleft and as I lined up my prick and pressed gently forward I sank straight into the welcoming clutch of her soaking pussy.

She gasped as I bottomed and I pulled back and thrust gently a few times to spread her lubrication, then sank myself to my root in her again. Helen's hands clutched at me convulsively as her pussy clenched about my prick. She was so wonderfully warm and tight and wet around me that I lost myself in the sensation for a moment, then began to thrust gently but firmly, starting us on the slow climb to ecstasy.

Helen sighed a half-moan as she felt me moving. Our eyes met and she blew me a kiss then gasped again as my thrust went deep. Her knees came up, urging me deeper, and her feet clasped me to her. I was using the full length of my prick, easing up until I almost left her, then sinking back, deep, deep, deeper into the liquid heat and slither of her.

We were both eager, both on a high of anticipation and it couldn't - wouldn't - last. Helen's breathing began to quicken, her hands fluttered over my back and she began almost to gasp in time with my thrusts. Her wordless uttering triggered some deep subliminal response buried deep in the male psyche and I began to feel that gut-deep stirring, that tightening, that presages the male climax and my thrusts became harder, the animal in me surfacing.

My hands were under Helen, fingers hooked over her shoulders, holding her to me so that my thrusts would not move her bodily, but she was slamming her hips into mine as I thrust and the moment was taking us. My balls were tightening, my prick was reaching that stage of hyper-sensitivity that goes before climax. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but Helen's nails dug into my back and her pussy clamped down on my prick as she came, screaming tightly in my ear as she felt me erupt within her.

I collapsed across Helen, our sweat-slick bodies slithering together, hearts pounding in unison, then eased my prick from the wetness of her pussy and flopped to my back beside her. I took her hand and raised it to kiss her fingers. She leaned across and kissed me.

"I love you, Steve," she said quietly, solemnly.

I squeezed her fingers. "I love you too, Helen." I smiled at her. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes, my darling, just as soon as the divorce is final."

I kissed her lovingly, then laughed.

"What is it?" she asked, smiling.

"We don't even know whose bed we just made love in," I said.

Helen's smile broadened. "I know," she said.

"You do? You know who owns theHelena now?"

Helen nodded. "Yes," she said, her eyes sparkling.

"Well, tell me, woman, who?" I said, exasperated.

Her smile changed, a deep joy in her eyes, warming me, humbling me, lighting my life and I think I guessed before she spoke.

"We do," she said.

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