Wedding Day No. 07

I led her into the bedroom, helped her onto the bed, and made love to her, slowly, carefully, and gently.

First I kissed her tears away with about a hundred light, brushing, butterfly kisses.

And then I took my time. I kissed her hands, starting with her palms and each finger, separately, sucking each one, gently, caressing it with my tongue, and then kissed her arms, taking my time, sucking and licking especially that soft fat pad at the back of her upper arm, deliberately leaving a little hickey.

She squealed when I nipped at her armpit and then down her ribs.

"Relax," I said when she grabbed for me. I kissed her lips, a light brush, then her cheek, another light brush, and then her ear, another light brush, and whispered, "Let me do the work."

"Oh, God, okay," she breathed.

I could feel the tension leave her body, and I liked it as I started nuzzling and kissing her neck, the hollows of her collarbones, and the roundness of her shoulders. I nipped at her breasts and then her nipples making her yelp. I liked the way they hardened and then stayed tight and hard as I nuzzled at the bottom of her breasts, kissing and licking, enjoying the salty taste of her sweat.

Working my way down I lost myself for a while in that beautiful swell where her belly emerged from her relatively small body. I kissed and licked. I probed her belly button with my tongue making her squeal and giggle, and then I pushed that beautiful roll, soft and warm, covered in deep stretch marks, up and out of the way, and I kissed her mons, that beautiful, full, plump, soft, round Mound of Venus that marked the entrance to her body.

She deposited fat there as she did in her belly and ass and thighs. Her labia were soft and fat and when I gently parted them, they actually hung, not dangling like happens with some relatively skinny women, but her labia were just so full and soft they hung, leaving the entrance to her a long, dark slot. She was smooth, but I suspected it was a matter of constant rubbing rather than a razor or wax.

I kissed her there and her womanscent was strong and delicious. I inhaled deeply and evolution's natural aphrodisiac worked. I came erect.

But I was in no hurry.

I kissed and licked and when she used her fingers to part her labia, opening herself, offering herself, and when I pushed my face into where she offered, the feel of that soft flesh, hot and damp, almost undid me. But I kept my control and pressed deeper, finally finding the hard button of her pleasure, her clitoris, deep in that warm, dark crevice, and when I flicked it with my tongue it was like a switch flipped deep inside her.

It wasn't an orgasm, but she started flowing, the sweet nectar of her excitement thick and salty, slightly oily, with just a hint of a tang covering my tongue. I swallowed, loving the effect I was having on her.

"Oh, Phillip," she said softly, "Don't you stop."

So I didn't.

I kissed and licked and probed, using my tongue like a finger to masturbate her clitoris until I felt the change in her rhythm and felt her orgasm coming.

I slowed my motions then, wanting to bring her along slowly.

She moaned.

"BABY!" she cried.

I kept up that slow rhythm then, my tongue rolling her clitoris slowly, feeling how hard it was, but not allowing her to cum.

Well, trying to not let her cum.

She came.

And it was like a man's ejaculation, hot and thick and sticky.

But it didn't stop.

Her fingers were in my hair and I was surprised when she came, the sudden fountain of her release catching me unaware, unready, and making me cough, spewing her hot ejaculate all over her pussy and lower belly.

Her fingers in my hair jerked me back, pressing my face where she was so slick.

She came a second time, just as hard, just as powerfully, just as messy. I felt her thick honey covering my face, soaking my hair.

But this time I was ready and buried my face in that deep, soft, hot tunnel, sucking, drinking her pleasure like fine wine.

Her third and fourth orgasms got weaker, but I kept at her, licking and kissing and sucking, keeping her going.

She rested, breathing in sharp gasps, almost like that whistling lamaze breathing we had learned, my second wife and I, in Lamaze class.

And I kept at her, wanting her to finish, to be completely satisfied.

Her fifth, and final, orgasm made her strain. I could feel the rigidity of her muscles under the softness.

And the sudden smell told me she had strained a little too hard.

"Oh, God," she cried out, pulling away from me and rolling onto her side, "Oh, God, I'm sorry."

I grabbed her before she could get away and wrapped her in an embrace.

"Oh, God," she said for the third time, "I'm sorry, Jesus, I'm sorry."

I held her until she got herself under control.

"Stop it, Audry," I said, my voice soft, "I'll take care of you."

That stopped her.

"You'll what?" she asked, the surprise overwhelming her embarrassment.

"I'll take care of you," I said.

I kissed her.

"I told you," I said, kissing her again, "I'm an assman. Part of being an assman is taking care of accidents."

Her eyes were big.

"What?" she started, coughed, and started again.

"What do you mean you'll take care of me?" she asked.

I smiled, kissed her again, and pulled on her magnificent hip.

"On your belly, Audry," I said, gently, "and let me."

"Oh, God," she said for the fourth time, but this time she was smiling, and she rolled onto her belly.

As I said, I'm not some sort of a scat freak and if I thought I was going to be dealing with a foot-long log I wouldn't have offered. But I had felt how quickly she caught herself, and when I spread her cheeks I saw just a tiny brown circle around that tunnel that leads to her anus.

I patted her ass and said, "Stay put."

In the bathroom, I pushed the end of the spring-loaded rod that held the toilet paper roll in place on the bathroom vanity and took the roll back to bed. I carefully wiped her accident away, taking my time, looking at that beautiful ass as I cleaned it up. Then I dumped the paper into the toilet, flushed it, and ran the water in the sink until it ran hot.

While I was doing that I looked in the mirror and had to laugh softly. Christ, it looked like someone had poured about a quart of yogurt over my head.

I grabbed one of the small face towels, soaked it in the hot water, and went back to the bed where I washed her, very carefully, very thoroughly, making sure that the deep tunnel to her anus was clean.

I went back into the bathroom, tossed the wet towel in the sink, and went back.

I thought, at first, that she was asleep but then she rolled up onto her side, crooked her finger beckoning me.

In bed, she pushed, gently, until I was on my back.

She didn't say anything, just held my eyes with hers, swung her leg over me and took me, cowgirl fashion.

By that time I was pretty hair-triggered and she had me cumming in just a minute.

And it was good. Oh my goodness, it was good. Her fat labia, where she pulled them apart, laid against my pubic arch, covering me almost to my hip bones. Her pussy, when she concentrated and squeezed those muscles, was so tight it was like my first time, LO these many moons ago.

So I came, hard, leaving me breathless.

When I relaxed she started scooting up, her eyes somehow cold, as if now that she had what she wanted nothing else mattered.

"Clean up your mess," she said, scooting forward, lifting the roll of her belly apron, and covering my mouth with her pussy.

So I licked and sucked and cleaned her up.

Her nectar and my semen made an interesting combination. I didn't mind. Hell, I liked it.

"Stay put," she said, rolling out of bed and leaving me there.

When she came back she was dressed again.

"My husband will be here in the morning so I need to go," she said.

She kissed me, lightly.

"Thanks, Phillip, it was fun," she said.

I think I was asleep by the time the door shut, or maybe I heard it. I'm not sure.