The Honeymoon Ch. 03

He had never been a fan of the supermodel look, and it was his joy that Amanda hadn't fallen into that trap; she was well-fleshed, healthy, with breasts that begged to be suckled. Her skin was pale, almost translucent in places, and on her breasts he could see a delicate tracery of veins. She always claimed she was fat, and nothing he said could ever convince her otherwise. Nothing he did, either, since so much of the vocabulary of physical love had been off-limits until now.

Today it was different.

Today he worshipped at the altar of her beauty. Today, when he showed her that she was beautiful, she believed it.

Amanda, for her part, was in heaven. She was aware that there were things she ought to be concerned about, but they seemed so much less important now. What, after all, was to be concerned about? She was here, with her friends, and with her husband; and she was sharing her body with her husband, the way man and wife were meant to. These were the pertinent facts in her mind; nothing else seemed important. Life had gotten so simple! It was gorgeous, to not have to worry about all those other things. And gorgeous to be here, in the arms of this wonderful man, seeing his face just under her own; watching the smiles on his face as he reacted to her reactions, watching him shift from concentration to satisfaction. Feeling the joyous tingles as he suckled at her breast, feeling the deep pull inside her that seemed to reach all the way down, to that place between her legs that was even now growing damp and hollow, aching with the need to be filled.

Kerri and Winston, seeing that their friends had things well in hand, retired to an armchair to watch in greater comfort.

Patrick began kissing his way down Amanda's body, wandering without plan or purpose. He speckled kisses across the broad globes of her breasts, down in the cleavage between them, back and forth across her soft belly. As he wandered lower, he began to be aware of heat, and of an acrid scent; finally arriving at her pussy, he was surprised (if pleased) to find her already beginning her wetness. He felt a sudden burst of hope: maybe this bizarre plan would work after all. Gently, with infinite care, he placed a first tentative kiss on her pussy.

It was evident to all of them watching: she gave a groan, her whole body coming up off the couch, and her hands went to the back of his head to urge him on. Kerri, gasping in wonder, wrapped her arms around Winston and gave him a kiss. Patrick allowed himself a smile of wonder before returning to the task at hand.

"Take her all the way," Kerri hissed to him, "make her climax," and Patrick agreed. he didn't know when he'd get a chance like this again, so he intended to make the best of what he had now. He had never brought a woman to orgasm before, but he had studied the theory; he was a conscientious man, and (like his wife) took his duties to his spouse seriously. And he had Kerri on hand to give help. If this wasn't enough, nothing would be.

He began by kissing his way around her pussy, familiarizing himself with the territory. Then he began to kiss his way through the individual petals of her pussy: the thicker outer padding, and then the inner lips, thin and delicate. As he kissed, he tasted her nectar, metallic and a little sour--first distantly, and then in greater amounts. He tasted more of it as he repeated his circuit, this time with his tongue laving the skin he had kissed. She was moving under him, her hips shuffling, her body wiggling, and he knew she was trying to get him into contact with her clit. What she didn't know was that he was deliberately avoiding it, so that when he finally did make contact the results would be memorable.

And, indeed, when his lips finally settled around that tender little but, he could've sworn that she almost came right there. He glanced up to see if Kerri and Winston were watching this, saw that they were, noticed in passing that, if you judged by the way they were sitting, they might be doing it right now--Kerri could've easily tucked Winston's hard-on into her pussy without moving much. And he couldn't think why Winston wouldn't be hard at this point; Patrick himself felt practically ready to blow in his pants. Still, he had something more important to do. He wrapped his lips around his wife's clit again; and then, obeying Kerri's whispered instructions, began to flick at it with his tongue as he sucked.

He wasn't sure he'd know it if she came; he was, after all, new at this. But as it turned out, it was easy to know, because she was so noisy. Her moans reached a crescendo; and then her entire body came up off the bed like a rising tide, and he felt a new rush of wetness from her pussy. Her hands on his head clutched at his hair, tangled there; he felt tension flowing out of her body in torrents. And then she collapsed back on the couch, spent, as Kerri and Winston took time out of whatever they were doing to gently applaud.

Amanda was deeply appreciative once he reached her face; she wrapped her arms around him and practically yanked him down on her. "I love you," she was saying, "I love you, I knew you could do it, you are the best husband ever."

"I love you too," was all he could find to say. Was it really that big of a deal? He knew she'd do the same for him--had, in fact, done the same. He didn't see this as being that different.

"Now, I want you to do one more thing for me," she said.

"Okay."

"Get inside me," she said. And she suited words to actions by reaching around between them and finding his cock, still proud and erect. A little bit of fumbling later, and he was at her entrance. "Do it, darling. Do it now."

And who was he to refuse his wife?

Kerri and Winston were indeed fucking; she had slipped him inside her without much particular fanfare; she didn't need him to be moving, just to be inside her. This was not the first time they had done this; sometimes, in fact, they placed him inside her during other activities--watching TV, reading books--just to have the contact; just to know that they were connected in that perfect, private place. Today it was nothing like that, of course; watching Amanda's unself-conscious enjoyment had turned both of them on immensely, and they had been fucking slowly as Patrick brought his wife to orgasm. Tonight it was a game, and a very pleasant one--to bring Winston to the edge of climax and then hold back, drawing out their fucking as long as possible. But now Patrick and Amanda were up to something, and it distracted them from their own pursuits.

Kerri could see Amanda reaching between her and Patrick, and knew what must be going on. A moment later, Patrick's hips began to settle down, and she watched in amazement as their expressions changed, so simultaneously they seemed to belong to one person: eyes closing, eyebrows raising, mouths falling open, heads tilting back. They breathed out a sigh together, their voices falling in unison. And then, as his hips met hers, they opened their eyes together, their faces filled with wonder, and leaned together for a kiss.

Kerri stared, the penis inside her almost forgotten.

She knew what sex between her and Winston looked like, because they had done it facing a mirror more than once; she and Winston liked athletic sex, liked to find new ways to drive each other wild with pleasure. What she was seeing from Patrick and Amanda was something completely different. They moved slowly, kissing often, their bodies intertwined; she had her legs up around his waist, her arms hooking around his shoulders. Was it because Patrick had a short fuse?--that would be expected, to go straight from dinner to sex without stopping to pee, and without a blowjob to take the edge off first. But Kerri didn't think it was that at all. She thought it was more that they were too happy to fuck. After all, hadn't they been working towards this moment for four days? Of course they would rather enjoy it than blow it all on an orgasm. She watched them kiss, watched her stroke his face, watched him nibble at her ear and bury his face in her hair, and felt a strange hollowness inside.

Though Amanda was well and truly plastered, she knew enough to realize that Patrick wouldn't last long inside her. She wished something could be done about that, because one thing was clear to her: shelovedthis. She was underneath him, his entire weight on him, but she was bearing up; she was his support, his foundation. She could feel his leg hairs against her buttocks, his hard abs against her stomach, the strength in his arms that held him up above her; she could look up to see his face hovering over her, caught between concentration and a bliss that threatened to engulf him; she could feel his penis, hard inside her, so warm, pushing deep within her, splitting her open in a way she'd never imagined possible. She had all but forgotten about the others in the room; her focus was only on him. She felt completely naked, and yet completely unashamed; she was free, freed of all anxiety and insecurity, caught under him and yet completely inured to any hurt or injury; she felt whole for the first time in her life, felt a completeness on a fundamental level that she had never even realized she inhabited. And shewasn'tcaught under him either; she had chosen to be here, to give herself to him, to be the woman who bore him. This was where she wanted to be: under him, serving him, holding him up, held up by him; giving herself to him completely, and being given to in turn. For there were no walls between them now, no barriers of his making or hers (mostly they had been hers); she could feel his heart beat against her chest, and knew that he felt the same. They were married; they were, so long as they were joined this way, one flesh.

"Do you want to move?" she said to him. Or maybe she breathed it. Or maybe she thought it. There was no telling right now.

He smiled. "If I do, it'll end."

She drew him down to her, feeling herself mold to him; in her mind's eye she saw herself as some primordial clay, shaping herself to him, wrapping herself around him. "It'll end," she breathed in his ear, "but that's okay. We have something to look forward to for next time. We know where we can be and what we can do. The door is open." And, exerting control she didn't know she had, she squeezed his manhood with her vagina (wherehadshe learned to do that, anyhow?), knowing instinctively that it would bring him closer to the edge, that he had no counter for it. "I want you to come inside me," she whispered. "I want you to make me your woman."

He did.

It only took three more thrusts before he was gone. She knew it wouldn't last, and focused herself (Darn this alcohol-induced distraction!) on enjoying what she could. She felt his penis withdrawing and returning within her--the marvelous feeling of his shaft slipping in between her lips, of the ridge behind his cock head pressing against her inner walls. She felt his body come into contact with her clit as he bottomed out, feeling the ripples and shocks of pleasure. She felt his warm breath on her skin, heard its whoosh and bellow. She felt the way his body tremored between her legs as he came, the way his buttocks clenched with each rush of seed, the feeling of warmth and wetness inside her as his semen poured out in a gush. And, as he gave his final grunt and pushed deep, she opened her eyes to see his face--the tightening, the focus, the chase; the way pleasure burst forth across his face, dissolving the knots of tension there; the way he sagged against her in total relaxation, his heart thundering, his body limp like a warm blanket. And she kissed his face and whispered to her how good he felt, and how much she loved him, as he gave himself up to pleasure and surrendered to her body.

After a time, they became aware of other noises and other movement. Winston was still in the armchair, and now Kerri had straddled him and was driving them both to climax. Kerri was yelping at every downstroke, and Winston's breath was rough upon the air; his hands were at her breasts, cupping, twisting, while hers sought balance at his shoulders. She might've come first; Amanda had no way of telling. She only knew when it ended because Winston's voice scaled up the octave, open-ended cries that suddenly went still; and he pushed himself up into his wife's body as she held completely still over him, and Amanda was surprised to note that she could see his testicles move up, see the base of his shaft twitch with each squirt of semen. Finally he collapsed, spent, and Kerri wiped sweat from her face before turning to look at them. "Sorry, but we got kind of, umm... Inspired." And Amanda laughed and told them it was okay.

They curled up together in bed like spoons, she sheltered in the arc of his body, feeling his breath in her hair, his warm rough palm on her breast. She felt sacred, and warm, and more cared-for than she ever had in her life. Only one major fear penetrated her alcohol- and orgasm-soothed brain as she dropped off to sleep: what about tomorrow? Would any of the things that had worked tonight still apply tomorrow? It was a tense, worrisome thought, and she could not help but wonder over it before sleep finally claimed her.