Hillary: The Summer of '92 Ch. 03

As I studied her face, I thought saw something that told me what she'd just said wasn't entirely true, but I wasn't up to challenging her. I wanted to clarify our relationship and hoped I'd done that.

"Hillary, are...are you sure you want to keep seeing me?" I asked. "I mean, what about your friends? And...and you have a boyfriend, too, don't you?"

"Are...are you trying to tell me you don't want to see me any more, is that it?" she asked. Her eyes weren't teary any more and there was a twinge of anger in her voice.

"No...not at all," I responded quickly. "I...I certainly don't want to stop seeing you. But I don't want to spoil your summer, either."

She slid closer to me, put her arms around me, and buried her face in the crook of my neck. "I don't want to spend time with my friends," she said softly. "I want to spend my summer with you. I never, ever, had a summer like this. And...and I may never have another one, so..."

I slid my arms around her and we stayed like that for a while, not talking, holding each other.

"This weekend is going to be hard," I said. "Are...are you going to be OK?"

Hillary nodded against my neck, but didn't speak.

"Would you like to go to bed?"

Hillary nodded against my neck again.

We got up and moved into the bedroom that had become "ours." Our robes came off and we slid under the covers. The minute we were in bed, Hillary slid over and pressed her lovely warm body against mine. Her hand slid between us and she took hold of my penis, which immediately began growing hard. She cupped her fingers around it and began to stroke it while, at the same time, she pressed her lips against mine and thrust her tongue into my mouth. I laid an arm over her and began trailing my fingers lightly up and down her back. As it always seemed to do, that caused her to quiver a little and moan softly into my mouth.

We caressed each other, kissing, and enjoying the contact between our bodies for quite a while, as long as we could before our rising need for each other drove us to move on to another level of sex play. I pulled back a little and, instead of kissing Hillary's lips, began kissing her chest, moving down toward her nipples, which had been poking against my chest for some time. Her hand continued sliding up and down my erection, now slippery with the lubricating fluids that seeped from the and were massaged into the shaft by her gentle caresses.

She groaned softly when my lips locked around her left nipple and her hands clasped my head. She moaned louder when I began suckling her as if I was a hungry infant and she was my mother. I moved my hand down and cupped one of her firm buttocks. Then I slid my fingers into the cleft between the wonderfully-formed globes and found that area wet and slick with her effluent of need. Her response was a full-body shudder and passionate moan. Her hands, already wrapped around my head, clutched me even more tightly.

I moved my lips from one nipple to the other, then back, while my fingers continued to explore the delightful valley between Hillary's buttocks, teasing both her vagina and her tiny, snug anus and evoking an almost continuous protestation of joy from her as I did. Her hand began sliding up and down on my rigid penis more and more rapidly and I felt my own need rising, so I pulled my hand out of the lovely valley I was having so much fun exploring and pushed Hillary onto her back. Then I slid atop her. She never let go of my erection the whole time and, when I was in position and began lowering my hips, she guided the swollen tube of flesh to the spot where both of us wanted it to be.

"Oh, Goddd!" I groaned as I sank into her.

"Yessss! Oh, God, yesssss!" she hissed in reply, clutching my buttocks, dragging me into her. "Take me! Oh, God, take me, I need you so bad!"

What amazes me as I write this is that in spite of the fact she and I had made love more times than I can count in the few days we'd been seeing each other, every one of those love-making episodes differed from the others. Some were wild and frantic, explosions of need. Others were calmer, loving and gentle. But all of them were satisfying. All of them were wonderful. It also occurs to me that my love-making with my wife was much the same and always had been.

My joining with Hillary that evening, the first night I was leaving her to go be with my wife, was a bit of a mixture of exploding passion and loving and gentle. I kept myself buried deep inside her, rocking my hips, twisting them from side to side, while she lay under me, doing the same thing. Her fingers dug into my butt while my erection lashed around inside her. Fabulous sensations spread through my body the way warmth from a heater spreads through you on a cold day, filling each part of me, pushing out the empty cold spots that needed to be filled by the warmth of ecstasy.

I held my upper body above Hillary's on straightened arms and gazed down into a pretty face transformed with need and desire. The look of passion she got when we were making love is indescribable. I'd never seen anything like it before I met her, nor have I seen anything like it since. It was quite simply, a look that I would expect to see on the face of someone having a divine experience. Every time I saw it I was humbled to think that I was at least in part responsible for it being there. Her body seemed to be pressing against mine even more tightly than usual, and her need seemed somehow more intense in some ways.

"Ohhhhhahhhhh!" she cried at last, her fingers digging into me even more fiercely and her legs, locked behind mine, tightening.

For a second I could actually feel the wonderful vibrations of her vaginal walls as they began the spasms of orgasm, then all I felt was incredible, extraordinary, overwhelming bliss as my own orgasm exploded and rapture flooded through me.

I don't remember much else from that night. I assume we went to sleep in each other's arms, because that's how we were when I awoke in the morning.