Naked Pt. 04

He kept up his ministrations for minutes, until at last her spasmodic trembling came to an end. But as he climbed back up her body and held her close, he saw that her tears were continuing to leak out of her eyes.

"Are you okay, dear?" he said with concern.

She gave him a broken smile. "Never better, sweetheart."

At last she settled down, and it was then that he entered her.

He slipped in almost unawares, his cock seemingly homing in on her wet pussy like a nail to a magnet. There was something inevitable in his foray into her, and she wrapped her legs around him with an instinct that comes over every female when receiving the male organ. She felt his member stretching the walls of her vagina ever so slightly, in spite of all the practice she had received with Cliff; and as she embraced him, he fastened his lips—still coated with her juices—to hers, squeezing her breasts and butt as he sought to possess her utterly.

And she wanted to be possessed, especially by him. Although she kissed him back and stroked his back and bottom with her own questing hands, she lay largely passive as he tunneled into her. He was gentle but firm, taking command as a man should but without the slightest violence or force. As much as he had yearned for this moment himself, he sensed that it would only be the first of many—and he also sensed that this longed-for culmination was so emotionally fraught that he couldn't hold out nearly as long as he wished.

In less than ten minutes he was bathing her sex with his emission, burying his head in the crook of her neck as he poured out his seed and his emotions into this heavenly creature. She accepted his tribute with grace and humility, knowing there would be more in short order.

As he pulled out, she felt that cavernous vacancy that every woman feels after penetration. The vagina is made for the entry of a cock, isn't it? Now it was lying empty and useless, as the discharge that had been deposited there slowly oozed out.

But as they cuddled in a post-coital embrace, they both knew that another coupling was soon to follow. And it was Margery who, feeling bold and naughty, said:

"Would you like to go into my bottom?"

Daniel gasped. "You like that?"

"Yes. Cliff has taught me to enjoy it."

Margery casually reached over to the nightstand, where a jar of cold cream rested in the top drawer. She solemnly handed it to Daniel while rolling onto her stomach. With due care he applied the stuff, then got on top of her.

As he entered her, slowly but relentlessly, Margery lapsed into an utter submissiveness that was the ultimate expression of her love and devotion for this man, so long repressed. He went in almost to the hilt while wrapping his arms around her chest and seizing her breasts. She drifted into a helpless languor that in her heart of hearts she always wanted to feel when possessed by a man. It was just the right thing to do, wasn't it? After all, it was the man who was putting his sexual organ into her—she wasn't putting anything into him. She was the vessel, receiving a man's virility into her deepest recesses; but she did so with the full awareness that it was her own succulent appeal that caused the man to have this insatiable thirst for her in the first place.

Daniel's second discharge was a copious deluge that encapsulated the affection he'd felt for this charming woman for decades, and even after it was over he was reluctant to pull out. The connection they had re-established after all these years was too intense to be easily relinquished. But at last he withdrew, and they both sank into a well-earned sleep.