Sister Monica Ch. 07

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ms72vt
ms72vt
80 Followers

She did, and then she surprised him by munching on the stick, eating it right out of his hand.

"Mmmm," she said. "Tastes good."

He had seen her turned on before—she was a sexual dynamo—but never like this. She oozed sex, radiated sensuality. She was a tigress, wanting a night of passionate lovemaking. Well, he wasn't about to disappoint.

As much as he loved her in that sundress, he'd had enough. He needed her naked. Now.

"Take off that dress," he ordered.

"Thought you'd never ask," she teased, and off it went. He gasped at the sight before him. It's not that he'd forgotten how beautiful she was. Every night they were apart, he would visualize her naked body, imagine her beside him, or underneath him, moaning in desire. But now, looking at her for the first time in two months, he again understood the wonderful reality—he really was engaged to the sexiest, most beautiful woman in the world.

She went to him, the tables turning. She was the one in charge now.

"Are any of the strawberries and cream still left?" she asked.

He was staring—at her naked body, at the diamond ring on her finger, the only item she still had on. He was frozen in place for a moment. Her beauty dumbfounded him.

"Uhhh, sure, I think so." They had eaten strawberry shortcake for dessert.

He opened the fridge. There it was. A bowl of sugared-up strawberries and a container of whipped cream. He took them out.

She grabbed two of the strawberries, and took the can of cream, knelt down before him.

"Lean back, Josh," she said. "Enjoy it."

He leaned against the counter, waiting, wanting, desiring. . .

She sprayed a small amount of the whipped cream on his rock-hard dick, then plunked the two strawberries on top. He closed his eyes for a moment, waiting to feel her lips wrap around his penis. When he did feel them, he felt his body jerk involuntarily. She was licking the cream off of him, slowly. She flicked her tongue out like a snake, licking his penis-head, teasing his sensitive ridge. Then she took all of him in her mouth and he could feel her sucking on the strawberries simultaneously. It was too much. He couldn't take it, and he let loose. He sensed that she was surprised by how quickly he came, but she wasn't fazed. She drank all of it, a strawberry and cum cocktail. When she was finished swallowing, she looked up at him, smiled, licked her lips. "Yum," she said, and then took him in her mouth again until he was hard.

She stood up, went to him, French-kissed him, their naked bodies pressing together. He was in heaven, her smoothness, softness, the friction of her skin sending heat waves of electricity through him.

She handed him the can of cream.

"Where do you want it, baby?" he asked her.

"Use your imagination," she said.

Well, nothing too imaginative to start out with. He sprayed some on both of her breasts, covering both of her nipples. Then he placed a strawberry on top of each one.

"Now that's a strawberry sundae worth eating," he said, and she laughed—that rich, full laugh he had fallen in love with. That laugh that reminded him of a jackrabbit bounding through a meadow, the wind on its face. That laugh that was free, like random, puffy clouds floating through a cornflower-blue summer sky. He took the strawberry from her left breast in his mouth, and ate it. Then he licked off the cream, taking extra time to suck on her nipple. When he moved to her right breast, he took the strawberry in his mouth, but kept it lodged between his lips, not chewing it. Instead he lifted his lips to hers, and kissed her. He pushed the berry forward with his tongue, transferring it into her mouth. She reciprocated—pushing it back into his mouth, and then their tongues joined, the berry in the middle. They kissed and played with the strawberry until, finally, he swallowed it. But he kept right on kissing her. She moaned, softly, in his mouth, and he ran his fingers through her hair. She caressed his back, moaning, still moaning. . . .

He had to have her. He couldn't wait a moment longer.

He picked her up, still kissing her, their tongues performing a sensual ballet, carried her through the living room, and began to mount the stairs. She felt light in his arms, and so right. A perfect fit.

Midway up the stairs, he gently put her down. The stairs were carpeted and comfortable—they would do just fine.

"Here?" she said, amused.

"Here," he answered, and before she could get another word in, he was kissing her again. She kissed him back with more passion than he thought any human being could posses. He mounted her, as she leaned back against the stair behind her.

"Are you comfortable, beautiful?" he wanted to know.

"Mmmm, am I ever," she said.

He braced his knees on the stair she was sitting on, and kissed her again. He wanted to kiss her the entire time they made love. Their tongues danced, flickered, played.

He entered her, and it felt so good, so good. The feel of her slick vaginal walls squeezing his penis nearly sent him over the edge. Easy, he told himself. Easy now. Make it last.

They had not broken their kiss. Still they made love to each other's mouths, while, at the same time, he made love to her. Slowly he thrust in and out. The half-sitting position they were in offered him a great angle, and he was penetrating her very deep. She moaned, louder, louder, in his mouth as he picked up the pace.

For a moment, he wondered if Jeffrey might hear them and come out to watch, but he pushed the thought aside in a flash. Who cared? If he did, he did. The kid could use a sex-education lesson anyway.

He was really going at it now, hammering away, looking to climax. Their tongues were full-on wrestling now, aggressive, hungry. She was no longer moaning, she was screaming in his mouth. And then he felt her body shudder, and go limp.

Finally she broke the kiss. "Oh God, yes," she said. She was beginning to sweat, her bangs sticking to her forehead. But he hadn't come yet, and she wasn't done coming, either. Not if he could help it.

He leaned in, licked her left breast, took her nipple in his mouth, and chewed. Then he kissed her neck, her nose, her hair, her cheeks, her eyes, and finally her lips.

"You get to choose now," he said, still thrusting in and out of her as he spoke. "What position do you want, sexy?"

"Mmmmm," she said. He was thrusting with authority. "I . . .ooohhhh . . . want to be on top this time."

He pulled out of her. "You have a particular spot in mind?" he asked. "Or do you want to stay on the stairs? It's your call, baby. I want you to tell me."

She bit her lower lip, that tick she had that drove him wild. Not that he could be more turned on than he already was . . .

"Is that swing set in the back big enough for us?" she asked him. God, she was awesome. Such a kinky mind. He loved it. He'd seen her taking note of the swing earlier, while it was still daylight. The swing set had been there for years. He'd used it himself when he was growing up.

"You know, I think it is," he said. "Let's go!"

They raced out the back door, hand in hand, out into the warm night air. A cluster of stars shone on them, like heavenly jewels. He sat down in the swing—more snug than it used to be when he was ten, but it would do.

She sat on his lap, positioning herself just so, and he slid into her.

"Are we too heavy, do you think?" she asked.

"Nah," he said. "You're just a feather, sexy. It'll hold."

He reached around, grabbed hold of her breasts, and pumped his legs. Slowly at first, but surely, they began to swing. She joined in, too, and soon, they were swinging in a wide arc.

"Wheeeee!" she said. "How exhilarating!"

She turned her head around, and they kissed. Then she faced front again. She had no footing to brace herself, so she used her arms. She grabbed onto the side of the swing, her hands on top of his, and pushed herself up and down, up and down, as their legs continued to pump. For good measure, he thrust, too, matching her movements in perfect rhythm. And it was surprisingly effective—not as good as it would have been had they been stationary, but he was able to slide in quite deep.

He pinched her nipples, kissed the back of her head through the rich, luxurious mane of red hair. She was moaning again, her breathing fast, choppy. She was nearing another orgasm.

And so was he. He pumped his legs and thrust his penis into her, her wet vaginal walls gripping onto him like a silken vice. Then, wanting to be able to penetrate full to the hilt, he stopped the swing.

"Turn around, beautiful," he said, and she did, getting up, then sitting back on his lap, facing him.

They kissed, as they made love. It didn't take long for her to come. They were both bracing their feet on the ground now, thrusting at full power. She broke the kiss, threw her head back, and screamed in climax. Just moments later, he came, too, shooting his juices deep inside her. And then they sank into each other's arms.

He stayed inside of her, neither of them wanting to separate. Eventually he grew semi-erect again, but they didn't thrust or move. They just sat there, linked, joined.

"I hope you don't regret all of this down the road," she said. A gust of wind rose up, and her hair billowed out behind her like a flaming red sail.

He looked her in the eyes, which sparkled in the starlight. "Never," he said. "No one ever loved anyone as much as I love you."

She kissed him, buried her head on his shoulder.

"God bless you, Josh," she said. "Thank you so much for coming into my life. For loving me the way you do."

He hugged her, tight, trying to draw her closer, closer. Even an inch of separation was too much, a centimeter too far, a millimeter too vast. Nothing would ever separate her from him again. Not ever.

There were things to talk about still, matters to plan, issues to solve. But they would solve them together. They were mere details, trivialities dwarfed into insignificance under the umbrella of their love.

For right now, sitting in this same swing that he used to play on a decade ago—a lifetime ago—just a freckle-faced kid growing up on the California coast, he wanted to hold the woman he loved, the woman he wanted to grow old with, share a lifetime with. He wanted to feel her nearness, smell the flowery perfume of her hair, enjoy the warmth and smoothness of her skin as it pressed against his.

The rest, they could take care of down the road. Together. She picked her head up again, looked at him, kissed him. And the breeze blew on them, all around them, carrying with it, Josh was sure, the whispering promise of ten thousand tomorrows.

THE END

Author's Note: Thanks again to all of you for your feedback and comments. When I began this story line, I intended it only to be a one-shot, single story. But your comments inspired me to keep going. Now it's finished, and I hope you've enjoyed the ride. It was truly fun and rewarding hearing from all of you throughout this process. Thanks for all the great advice and insightful comments. It all helped me enormously along the way. I really do hope you enjoyed this final installment in the series . . .

ms72vt
ms72vt
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AnonymousAnonymousalmost 4 years ago
I wonder

Good story, but I wonder how things will turn out for them. Josh has some maturing to do as well as learning to be financially responsible. How long will his parents continue to support him? I guess the ex-nun will be the breadwinner for at least a few years.

Sybaris_CaesarSybaris_Caesarover 5 years ago
God damn it.

This awesome story should be in Romance section.

Chief3BlanketChief3Blanketover 7 years ago
I think I enjoyed this story more this time

I first read this story of Josh and Monica in December 2014. I didn't bookmark it and have been trying to find it for months. The story is a little unbelivable, but it is an enjoyable and entertaining tale. It is well written and has a fully developed plot and characters. In short what is not to like about it, nothing from my point of view.

TSreaderTSreaderabout 8 years ago
A wonderful story!

A great ending! Thank you

Chief3BlanketChief3Blanketabout 9 years ago
Another comment

Actually even thought this is quite a love story, it is just plain unbelievable especially the first encounter in chapter one.

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