Come Live with Me and be my Love

And fuck, her orgasm was coming and she was frantic, fucking her cunt up against him, her ass up against him. Her arms strained against him and he held her down, she didn't want to break free, not really, she just needed the leverage to grind against him, to shove him deeper so he could feel his long shaft fuck up into the deepest parts of her. Her cunt. Her ass. Stretching her.

She was crying out now, incoherent curses of love, fuck please yes, God, fuck my pussy, my love, my ass, suck my tits, oh God, love, God, your cock please fuck I need you.

And then she felt pressure on the left side of her head, and she was confused, this was new, and the pressure again, a tendril pushed her head to the side so that her head was facing the side of the room. And then she felt the pressure on her lips and she understood, he was giving her a cock to suck while she came, he knew she loved that, to come with a cock in her mouth, and she opened her lips eagerly to take him in.

She was completely filled, his cock in her pussy, in her ass, in her mouth, all moving, all caressing, and oh God, her tits and then he started to flick and twirl around her clit. He was everywhere, all over her body, in all of her sensitive places, and she loved him and she fucked him and she started to shake and shake until she exploded all around him. Her arms were still pinned, her hips writhing. Her mouth, her pussy, her ass, drew from him his essence, what sustained her from year to year as she felt the coldness leave and be replaced by heat, gorgeous heat, flooding into her.

He stilled inside her. She shuddered against him again and again and again, spasming against his solid pressure. She felt it would never end, her body gripping and milking and loving him, loving him, loving him.

Finally, her muscles stoped clenching, she was able to breathe, and her body relaxed, feeling him inside her, still, soothing her.

He released her arms and she brought her hands to rest on her own body, one hand on her breast, one gently cupping her pussy. She would sleep now. She didn't know if he slept, or watched her; she just knew that he would be there until the first shards of daylight pierced the sky.

"I love you," she whispered. He quivered, moved gently in response. There was no need for a blanket. They were warm, now. They were both warm. For now.

And she drifted, and he enveloped her, and they were warm together.

She awoke, hours later, because she was cold. Cold and alone. A shot of pain seared through her heart. It did not get easier. The fire had died in the grate.

She got off the bed, shivering, found her clothes and jewelry, and pulled them on haphazardly. Then she collected her various items from the cottage, and put them back into the canvas bag. She and washed the wine glass and shot glass and put them back in the cupboard. She took the flashlight, made her way down to the fuse box, and flipped the main breaker. Back upstairs, she put on her coat and, with one last look around, stepped out of the cottage and locked the door, testing it to make sure the bolt caught. It always did.

As she ventured back down the path, she did not look back.

When she got back to the city, she was exhausted. Her key slid into the lock at home as easily as it had done at the cottage. She took off her coat and hung it in the closet, dropping the keys on the hall table, and the bag of items on the floor. She'd put them away later.

Wearily, she climbed the steps to her bedroom. Then, using her phone light to see, she rummaged in her drawer. She got undressed and pulled on her pajama bottoms and an old, baggy, soft t-shirt. She turned to the bed and stood, for a moment, looking at the figure sleeping there.

She had been going back to the cottage for nine years. This man had been here, in her bed, for three.

He awoke, sensing her. "Sweetheart?"

"Hi."

He blinked, tried to focus his eyes in the near darkness. "Was he there?"

She pressed her lips together and nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak. A tear rolled down her cheek.

"Honey. Come to bed. I'll take care of you."

And he lifted the sheets and blankets so that she could curl into him. She wept softly into his shoulder for a few minutes and he held her, stroking his hand up and down, soothing her. They lay until her breath deepened, became regular, and she lay her hand on top of his. Two hands. Two wedding bands.

"I love you," he said. He meant it.

"I love you too," she said. She meant it, too.

© Lily Waters, 2021