The Freyja Club Ch. 21

Our eyes locked for a moment as we both paused to enjoy the sensation of our physical union, and I could see the raw passion in his hungry gaze. I assumed that he could see a similar look on my own, but I was aware that each time a wave of pleasure coursed through my body that my eyes clenched tightly shut, and seeing this, his cock would twitch and I'd clasp my vagina even more tightly around him.

As pleasurable as it was to just be filled, my body was impatient for him to initiate the long strokes that would lead to my release, and so I sensed him begin to withdraw, but, instinctively, I tried to use my kegs to keep him inside. He pulled out to the point where only the head of his dick was still embedded, but then he pushed back in with enough strength to knock the air out of me and I gasped a quick "ugh."

He had told me earlier that he had endured three weeks of abstinence, and I assumed that this meant that his seminal reservoir was overflowing. I wanted that creamy cum and I was prepared to do whatever was necessary to get it. Normally, I can exert some control over the pace of my arousal, with pausing at critical junctures being the primary measure. However, at the current moment, my clit was throbbing and had developed a mind of its own and was ignoring any of my feeble attempts to rein it in.

Just as I felt those first delicious waves that indicated that my release was close, I felt the tempo of his strokes into me increase as well and the tempo of withdrawal and thrusting created a staccato of sexual pleasure in both of us. Each time, his cock impaled me, I would respond with a gasping "ugh," and soon the pace of his fucking was met by an uninterrupted stream of my gasping "ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh's."

It's certainly a myth that women can feel a man's ejaculate in our vaginas, but that doesn't mean that we are unaware of the journey that male semen is making as it courses through a man's fleshy shaft. The 'tell' is always the way a man's face scrunches up in a grimace, with clenched eyes and gritted teeth. So when I felt him suddenly stop and arch his back, I was ready for the spasmodic pulsations that followed, but I was right there too.

I doubt that either of us was focused on the other as we simultaneously went over the edge. My orgasm hit me like a freight train and I bit into the base of my thumb to stifle the scream that I couldn't hold back. I had a vision of us locked together, oblivious to all else as he emptied the contents of his balls into my vagina. All I was conscious of was my wet grasping hole, into which nature was imploring him to deposit his seed. The first spasm exploded into my womb with some force and he rocked back as the pleasure of his release coursed through his body. At the same time, my back arched with the effect of pushing my groin forward as his second ejaculation erupted from his cock to join the first. As always, each one that followed was weaker than its predecessor until he had no more to give and I felt his body collapse on top of me.

For some time after I determined that he had spent his last, the echoes of my own climax were still coursing through my body even though I had stopped squirming when he had collapsed on me. I was vaguely aware that while his much-deflated cock was still inside me, I didn't want him to withdraw, so I held him with my legs as I stroked his head and rubbed his back. When he raised his head off my chest he moved to rise off my body, but I pulled me back on top. His face was pressed into the pillow next to my head and he was still gasping for breath when I asked him, "Are you okay?"

"I'm more than okay," he mumbled into the pillow, "But you're going to give me a heart attack." I laughed and said, "I doubt it, how old did you say you were?"

"Forty-eight the last time I checked."

When he raised his head enough to find my face, I hoped that he'd find shining eyes and an appreciative smile thanking him for the pleasure he had just bestowed. For some reason, he started to mumble an apology for leaving me behind, but I cut him off in mid-sentence, "No, no, it was incredible, you didn't! That feather thing was so... hmmm... I never felt anything like it... how did... uh... you're so full of surprises."

Though I realized that I was unable to put together a coherent sentence, I tried to make him understand that I had been more than satisfied by our sexual union, and for women, sexual intimacy was a multi-faceted experience and an orgasm was only one of them. As he rolled over on his side, the motion finally pulled his cock from my vaginal embrace and I also rolled with the result that we ended up face-to-face.

"You know that you're a fantastic lover don't you?" I whispered. It seemed to me that what I said was really a statement couched as a question, and he answered. "I do try, but only you can gauge my success."

"Yep, sexy, considerate, and now I see... pretty imaginative to boot, not even accounting for your most interesting curiosity."

I assumed he knew that my reference to his "curiosity," was his not-so-secret inquisitiveness about the Freyja Club. He acknowledged my compliment and sent back one of his own. "Have you ever been told how unique you are?" It was a question that I couldn't possibly answer, but he continued. "I'm finding your two 'personas' to be exciting. The outwardly conservative, bookish college professor that occasionally transforms into an unabashed cock-hungry slut every time the moon is full." I laughed at his choice of imagery and was quick to say, "Oh, much more often than that." Now it was his turn to laugh.

Never in my life have I felt so comfortable in a man's arms and my girlish thoughts began to wonder "What if?" I had long ago reconciled myself to the fact that I was going to lead my life independently and march to the beat of my own drummer, but suddenly I started thinking of ways we could be together, not only in the club but in life. I couldn't believe that I had no competition for that position. No such accomplished male can go so unnoticed. But I realized that I did have something unique to offer him and it was my willingness and ability to help in his quest.

Later, back at home, I reviewed the cards I thought I held, and quietly thought about how to play them. It was an exciting challenge.

POSTSCRIPT

When I agreed to let him chronicle my life and especially my journey to the Freyja Club, I had no idea I would receive the draft that I just read. He just sent it to me with the message "Correct anything I got wrong."

My God! How had he remembered even a fraction of the things he'd written? He never really interviewed me. We just talked, but it's all just as I remembered except for that very last part.

I can't believe that he knew those thoughts. I never shared them! Should I tell him? And have them 'stricken from the record,' even if they're true? I'm now forty-two and I feel like a silly sixteen-year-old. Who will ever read this? He can't discuss the Freyja Club publicly, so what's the point?

Do you think it's a message to me? Now THAT would be devious!!!