Starting from Scratch Ch. 03

Looking down at Margaret, he saw the truth in her eyes. The was a sexual beast! They would have rampant savage sex everyday and everywhere they could, but for right now, in this tender moment, she wanted, she needed his love. She wanted to feel loved. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually.

Thomas caressed Margaret's soft ivory skin. He slid his hand across her thick thigh. One hand was buried in the bed, supporting him as he held himself aloft, hovering over his lover. Thomas's free hand moved across and under Margaret's thigh. Caressing. Gliding like a feather. Feeling every transparent hair on her large round ass-cheek. He moved up, like a breath of air across her inner thigh. He circled around her knee and let his fingers move to her hip.

Margaret's breath caught. Her belly shuddered.

Thomas felt her muscle convulse. He felt her skin goose. Tiny transparent hairs stood straight up, and he felt every one as he caressed her belly. Down low first. Gliding. Kissing her skin with his fingers. Her pubic mound. Her lower belly. Her navel. He traced circles around shallow depression then followed a thin line of hair up the center of her belly to her sternum. Every move, every caress, his stormy green eyes never left Margaret's golden-brown pools of pure love.

In their moment, with eyes both green and brown, their souls danced and mingled. Every movement. Every breath. Every touch. Thomas and Margaret became two celestial bodies spinning around each other. Their gravity pulling him towards her. Thomas's fingers glided across her skin. He was touching, caressing, exciting her senses.

She gasped luxuriant sighs.

Margaret smiled up at her companion. Her lover. Her mate. Her body relaxed beneath him. She fell upward into him. Her body becoming one with his.

Thomas ran his hand up her sternum. He pressed his fingers in more firmly. Tracing the line of her collarbone across her décolletage before raking his fingers down. Kneading her pectoral muscle. Gliding down her breast. Caressing her areola. Pinching her nipple between his fingers.

Margaret gasped. Her back arched until her breasts were nearly touching Thomas's chest.

He moved up her breast to Margaret's collarbone, he traced his nails back across her décolletage to the other shoulder. He drug his fingers down her chest. Down her pectoral muscle. Down her breast. He caressed her areola. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger.

Margaret moaned. She purred.

He removed his hand from her breasts and slipped behind her back and supported her. Her eyes fluttered as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Thomas's mouth. His mouth was so close. Her lips parted.

Thomas pushed his dick through the slit of Margaret's soft smooth pussy. He thrust gently, pushing his dick inside her.

Margaret's eyes crossed. Her mouth parted. Her eyelids fluttered. Thomas's mouth came down. His lips caressed her. Her breath caught in her throat. Her lips trembled.

Thomas sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. Slowly. Delicately. He moved in and out of her body. He punctuated each move with a touch, a caress, or a kiss. Her thighs. Her ass. Her back. Her belly. Her breasts. Her open, receptive, mouth. First her bottom lip, then the top. Their tongues encircled and danced.

Margaret sighed. She breathed into his body, and he breathed into hers.

The flames of their passion burned brightly between them everywhere Thomas caressed was another fire. Another explosion. Another nebulous of pure energy. Pure love. Their love coalesced in their loins. A bar of pure power over shadowed by a nebula of pure love. The bar of energy moved and it thrust and smashed into the nebula, and with every collision it grew and expanded. Faster and faster they moved, thrusting and bashing, growing and expanding, until they fully engulfed the celestial bodies they occupied. And then, they exploded...

First the nebula and the bar of energy. Over and over again. One exciting the other in a vicious cycle until there was nothing left except two tiny orbs. They circled each other. The gravity of one pulling the other closer. They joined together and became one, and something new, something breathtaking, was created.

Margaret was heaving for breath. She stared up at Thomas. Her hair was wet from the sweat that covered her body. Her golden-brown eyes flashed with love and excitement as she stared up at her lover.

"I'm sorry," She gasped breathlessly, "We have children in the house now. I shouldn't scream like that anymore. It's just... that last orgasm... Fuck! I have never climaxed like that in my life! Ever! And that orgasm you gave me at the river... and the one in the truck... Fuck! They were nothing compared to this!"

"Good," Thomas said, his tone rich with pride at work well done, "Now you know how much I love you."

They were still connected. He was still inside of her, and she could still feel his sperm still shooting inside her. She was beneath him, but it didn't keep her from pushing up and hugging him as hard as she could squeeze.

"I love you!" She mumbled into his chest, "I love you so much!"

----(!)----

The next morning, Leslie and the girls grinned every time they saw Margaret and Thomas. Thomas did his best to ignore it, but Margaret blushed every time one of the girls met her eyes.

It was at breakfast that Leslie asked, "So, about last night, is that what we have to look forward to every night?"

All of the girls laughed uproariously while Margaret, for once looking completely embarrassed, hid her face in her hands. It was Thomas that answered, "If you're lucky! Sure as hell beats listening to the parents fighting."

"Shit!" Cheyenne gasped, but everyone was still giggling so fiercely that no one corrected her.

It was Sunday. Thomas had already milked the cow and gathered the eggs, so everyone lounged around the house reading books or watching old movies while Thomas, Margaret, and Leslie planned the next steps in her moving in with them. So, it took them all by surprise when a knock came at the front door. Conversations stopped. The girls looked around at each other and then at their mother nervously.

Together, Margaret and Thomas went to the front door. Margaret grabbed an old shotgun George had bought when they first moved to Montana as Thomas carefully opened the door.

Standing on the porch was a short woman with suntanned skin, a nice burnished gold. She had brilliant green eyes and brown hair cut and styled as a pompadour. She saw Thomas, and then she saw Margaret with the shotgun. Without batting a lash, the woman looked at Thomas and asked, "Thomas Goodspeed?"

"Yes," He answered hesitantly.

Pulling a manilla envelope from out of a shoulder bag he hadn't noticed, the woman handed it to him and announced, "You've been served. Sign here for receipt of delivery."