The Wedding Present Ch. 12

By the following afternoon at four o'clock, Tamara and Simon, newly wed, are flying at altitude over the Atlantic Ocean in a can full of dreamers, whipping neatly through the great void resting above the sea.

A holiday in the Caribbean is a lifetimes goal for Tamara and instead of wedding presents that's what they asked for, to have a dream holiday together, something to remember and cherish for always.

And here they were, or, here Simon was. Tamara was in the land of nod, head propped by a small cushion she'd brought with her and got into place as she'd gazed at the passing clouds, her new husband beside her as he held her hand before she drifted inevitably into sleep.

And she almost sleeps all the way to America, despite a brief conscious interlude halfway across the pond there is little got from Tamara the whole journey. Comatose by sheer exhaustion and the rollercoaster of emotions that was the wedding, and all that came with it. Simon lets her be to sleep and dream the time away, to flop her head on to his shoulder when the plane window turns her away, her arm about his waist, he's a happy guy, he loves her, and it isn't until the crew announces the planes impending descent that Tamara emerges from her cocooned immersion in that other place.

She comes up like a cork free'd from a sinking boat, stretching her arms up with her hands forming fists, breaking the tension between that inner realm and her waking world. Her mouth snaps shut after a big, cat like yawn, her eyes blink and from her lips, comes a languid smile.

"Sweet dreams?"

"Mmm." She breathes deep and her eyes widen suddenly as she tries to put her surroundings back into context.

"Are we nearly landing?" She reaches to his hand, bring it up to kiss him.

"Around thirty minutes I guess."

"You tired?"

"Yea it's been a long flight."

"I'm sorry, I fell asleep, I must of.... I was out like a light." She says with a sweet smile and he brushes her cheek with the backs of his fingers. She kisses them, one after another.

His face betrays a look beneath his smile.

"Sshu...." She wacks him, turning about her briefly, then smiling coyly. "Don't you dare!" She tells him.

"Wouldn't dream..." He offers. Imagining for a brief second, the flight attendant announcing over the tannoy to a shocked, amused and titillated plane load of passengers, an explicit outline of the newlyweds wedding night escapades before escaping into an embrace as they snog.

"Y' can take that grin off y' face Simon Horsley. She says to him, her widening eyes, humourously conveying a be-devilment and outrage both at once.

"D'ya love me Simon?" She says,playing the part of the needy wife as she tries to deflect attention.

"Duh!" He says back, and she grabs his shirt and pulls him in close again.

She gazes at him, her eyes flitting as she surveys this package, the new deal in front of her. She comes in closer. "Wanna fuck me tonight?" She whispers, their faces almost touching.

They kiss, freeing their tongues to one another, trying to be as discreet as they can.

"I'll take it that's a yes?"

He chuckles softly. "It's definitely, a yes, will always, be a yes."

Outside the Miami heat is a stark contrast to the artificial cool of the pressured interior of the aircraft. They flit excitedly to the nearest taxi and then head off to the motel.

Once inside they relax in their new surroundings, the motel wasn't all that but she was on cloud nine to actually be here, well not in the Carribbean yet but, here in America and on her way, with him, with Simon. And god! All that had happened to them lately!

Tamara's renewed relationship with her guy was well, giving her a new feeling of openness and confidence, a self assuredness that erased the old feelings of entering into a trap so willingly. That, had been shattered. She loved Simon with all her heart, but that dark underbelly of female lust that had always been there, had always frightened her because of the wreckage it would create if she ever allowed the tigeress to prowl loose. But now, there was none of that pressure, and the feeling of security that gold band about her finger gave her was magic. She was free, and she was secure. And she was also loved in that expression of herself. The repressive cloud of denial and restraint she'd so taken as a given was no longer there, suddenly the sun was out and if she wanted to, she could play.

"Hurry up in that shower Simon!" She calls to him, feeling the frustration of a lusty traveller, penned up and unable to move. At last she hears the water go off and Simon at last gets out of the shower.

He pads in, towel about his waist, chest wet and dripping. She reaches out to him from the bed, her hands pulling his, him climbing onto her as she lays back on the bed then pulls him in for her kiss, thrusting herself into his mouth, pulling herself into him by his head and he sucks at the wet muscle as she claims him for her own.

"Would you want to fuck someone?" It's as if the question only just arose in her mind, like a ball dropping from a pinball machine, rolling out onto a hard floor, it must be grabbed.

She lies still, focused now.

"No." He answers her quite calmly.

"Why, why not?"

"If I'm free to go off if I want to, then why don't you want to?"

He pauses.

"Go on I'm intrigued."

"You must think about it?" She wants to nail this one, why hadn't she thought of this before?

"I'm, just not bothered."

"Yea!" She returns. "Pull the other one."

"No I'm not." He consolidates his position.

"The excitement for me is you, that YOU want to!" "Not that I want to, to stray."

"Is that what I'm doin', strayin'?" She says.

"You're not straying as it's consensual." "I know about it, we share in it together." "So it's a joint thing, it's me and you."

"I've always been a slut Simon." She says softly, a touch of sadness. "But men don't love you when y'r a slut they treat you like crap and use you." "Like I 'ave been before."

And then suddenly her sadness gets pushed aside and her eyes brighten.

"But you!" She looks on him with awe and appreciation, touching this, this discovery she's found, almost a feeling of disbelief in her chestnut brown, shiny eyes as they glisten.

She softens her voice. "It's re-awakened my passion, this 'as!" "Bein' with you, married, to you!" She kisses his chest, then moves up to his ear, kisses his neck. His cock stiffening under the damp towel and the heat of her.

"What for?"

"What d'you think?" She whispers.

He gives a little smile, she comes to meet his lips. "For men." "Men and their lovely cocks!"

He thrusts into her now, his probing eel in her dark pool. She pulls off for breath.

"Ooh that got you didn't it!"

A small laugh comes from Simon like a bubble of tension that diffuses out happily across his face.

Her voice quieter, softer, she teases him. "Can't wait to fuck someone actually."

He exhales deeply. "Yea?"

"Some black stud puttin' his big cock in me!" Her mouth chowing down on every word before she gives it up.

"You'd like that as well wouldn't ya?"

"Me and some big, black guy, fuckin all night long...hmm?"

He responds, kissing her neck, her shoulders.

"You'd like that for me?" "Wouldn't you."

"Your new wife, your bride gettin' pummelled by some big black cock."

He pushes her down onto her front, unable to stand the teasing any longer, then pulling the fronts of her thighs towards him, gathering her up, those wide hips up about him and that big arse brushing against him.

"Ooh yea, wan' 'im t' fuck me like that!"

And his cock meets that gaping entrance.

"Love it from be'ind!" She says with her breath short now as he pulls her onto him, easily penetrating and going up inside that dark, velvet tunnel.

"Wan' 'im t' fuck me from be'ind....jus' like your doin' now!"

Then faster, needing. "God I love his cock Simon!"

This lets the dogs out the traps, fucking her, screwing right up into her as fast as he can go.

"You fuckin' 'im now?"

"God yea!"

He drives and drives, slapping, pulling.

"O'...love his cock Simon!."

"Oh...sh'"

She moans as she rubs at her herself, bringing herself off while he mounts her.

"I really am Simon."

"Yea, I know you will."

"Yea, oh FUCK I will!"

"Gonna love it!"

"I want you to love it!" "LOVE his cock!"

"I do!"

"Aarrr!!"

"I fuckin' love his cock Simon!" She shouts aggressively and Simon's balls, as they slap and swing into Tamara's frigging fingers, let go, and squirt up through his purple sausage, spunk, throwing it's self up into her warm wet space, deeply as it can get as he shoots in her again and again, locking onto her by those wide hips as he spurts the last of himself inside her.

"Oh god....that was heaven!" Exclaims Tamara.

"Flippin' 'ell!"

And as he clambers off of her she mounts him, kissing his face telling him how she loves him, her eyes shining and moist, her wet flange on his softened cock a big wet hairy, drooling slobber of a snog as it tries to eat him.

"You could go for more now couldn't you."

"Ooh, wish I could." She laughs, caught out.

He holds her down onto him, feeling her weight on him, feeling her nakedness so close, needing her, his hands wanting her.

He kisses lovingly.

His cock sleepy but stirring.

Roll on Jamaica then, my...sweet!"

"And as she kisses him, her eyes flutter with passion.