My Name is Chantal

"Oh Dan, that was lovely."

He rose to his knees and his penis had softened.

"It was so hard..." I said.

"Yes, a hard cock needs attention to stay hard. Would you like to give it some attention?"

I fondled his balls and I stroked him and it hardened. He positioned himself above me between my raised knees. "Would you like me to wear a condom?"

I was prepared for this question, and I had hoped he would be enough of a gentleman to ask. I needn't have worried. I was at the right time in my cycle and I wanted to feel him. "No. Give it to me. Please. It's time."

Dan placed his left arm on the mattress next to my shoulder, held his cock with his right hand and lowered himself. I could feel his cock head seeking out my wet opening -- it hadn't occurred to me that this might be a tricky moment -- and he pushed his spongy head between my lips with ease for an inch or two. He moved back and forth, gaining more lubrication from my vagina a little at a time and caressing my vaginal lips from within with the edge of his crown. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. Dan's head was next to mine and perspiration was flowing freely down his chest past his tummy, along his cock and into my own juices. As he thrust into me another inch at a time, his cock gradually coated more and more with my natural lubricant and our sweat, I held his head hard next to mine and breathed heavily. It felt so, so moist and hot and incredible and good and deeper and deeper until finally he was all the way in and grinding his pubic bone against mine. His cock was so deep in me, I was finally getting fucked when I had given up and oh oh oh and again and again and again he slowly slid his cock all the way in then all the way out then back. I lifted my feet to his buttocks, crossed my legs and pulled him in, deeper if that was even possible. His cock was so warm in me, so fleshy, so much sexier than the dildos Jean and I had played with, this was no play this was the real thing and he moved his hips faster and I pushed my hips against him faster and oh, oh, I felt a flood of warmth inside me as he held his breath and went rigid and his cock was flexing inside me and I gasped and came again and it was another hard orgasm. I could feel the tip of his hard, spurting penis with the greedy, sucking mouth of my cervix. I clung to his sweating back with my arms and my legs, he panted as he ejaculated over and over inside me and I gasped "Oh Dan! Oh Dan! Oh Dan!" as I orgasmed with my muscles tight around his throbbing cock.

I held him so, so tightly. It was the best moment of my life. I never had a better moment before or since. I didn't want to let him go. Dan was gasping for breath, his back sweaty and cooling, his heart pounding but slowing down, my vagina was stretched wide and my clitoris was too sensitive, his arms holding his body weight above me -- such a gentleman, not crushing me -- whispering into my ear "Oh God, Chantal! Oh God, Chantal! I love you so much!"

His cock soon softened, plopped out of my vagina and I felt a hot flood of his copious semen down into and past my anus. I thought this feeling was just a bit yucky but I didn't really mind. It was part of Dan. It was another new feeling he was gifting me with. It was part of what we had just done and I wasn't going to wipe any of it up. I just held him tighter.

We rolled to our sides -- I think he wanted to rest on his back but I wouldn't let him, I didn't want to let go of him. I placed my lips close to his hear and whispered "I love you, Dan. Thank you." We rested and although our breathing returned to normal my feelings never did.

It was late, far too late. I had to go home. I cleaned up a little bit and put my clothes back on. Dan pulled on a night gown but before I left I took his soft cock between my lips one last brief time and laved it with my tongue, tasting his dried semen and my own dried moisture. I finished my warm beer, kissed him good night and I left with the certain knowledge that I would be back.

Driving home, I planned the first of an almost endless series of lies that I would have to tell Jean to cover my absence that evening and the many evenings to come.

Dan and I made love over and over again in the months that followed; sometimes after work, sometimes before work and sometimes on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Jean figured it out before long, of course, although I always refused to admit my sexual life with Dan. There were some awfully vivid scenes but I brassed it out and I had my cake and I ate it, too, for a while.

Dan is long gone now -- as am I -- but that's another story. One little tragedy too many but at the end of the day, of the few things I can say with certain truthfulness and lay before me as I press on the ultimate Doorbell, is this: there was a time when I held the love of a man, and we made the most of it that we could.