tagRomanceMy Sunday With You Part 1

My Sunday With You Part 1


Sunday morning.

I awake to the exquisite sensation of you mouthing my cock. For several minutes I lie there, savoring the touch of your lips and tongue. Your movements are unhurried, almost deliberate. It’s as though you’re practicing an erotic form of Tai Chi, each motion enacted with a timeless devotion for perfection. Every gentle swipe and lick from your tongue, each delicate buss from your lips, is done to a quiet rhythm, its beat known only to you. There is no urgency or need as your mouth descends and my cock slides deeper and deeper until it comes to rest in the confines of your throat.

This is, after all, only the beginning of our day together.

I open my eyes. The covers are drawn back and you have positioned yourself on all fours, facing me. With your long, luxuriant hair splayed like a fan, your face blankets my loins, hiding them in a dark, feathery cloud of moist delight. Your hair slopes over your shoulders; beyond, your back narrows just above the rounded sweep of your buttocks. Your legs straddle one of mine and only now do I become aware of the cauldron of slick heat that perches lightly atop my knee. It’s clear that you have arranged your tableaux with great care, knowing exactly the imagery you wanted to greet me with.

I press upward gently with my knee and your throat muscles vibrate around my cock as you chuckle. You raise your head and, like a cork from a bottle, your mouth releases me with a muted popping sound. Your eyes meet mine and your smile is flanked by cheeks that glow with a special fire. Is it the excitement alone, I wonder, or are you blushing, surprised by your own wantonness?

“He wakes,” you murmur. For a moment you lean back, grinding your swollen clit against my knee. Your eyes close and a series of sighs escape your mouth like exclamations. Then your smile broadens into a grin and you crawl towards me. Your full breasts bob and sway, the distended nipples lightly grazing my chest. Your hair trails behind you like a net of gossamer thread. I reach my hands through the silky strands and curl my fingers against your scalp. Your breath warms my cheek.

“Mornin’, lover.” The words are spoken into my mouth and your tongue follows them with abandon. For a moment – the briefest of moments – my mind recalls a line that I’d read somewhere (“I wasn’t kissing her. I was whispering in her mouth.”). Then all conscious thought is gone, replaced by your overwhelming warmth and passion. Our tongues dart and mingle like newborn pups and I taste my scent on your lips. You moan as my fingers dig into your shoulder muscles before gliding down your spine to cup your ass cheeks.

The heat from between your legs radiates like a flame against my fat, twitching cock. Your hips swivel from side to side as you seek to join us together. Your mouth leaves mine and your tongue lashes a trail circling my earlobe.

“Hitch me up, honey,” you breathe into my ear. “I wanna go for a ride.” The last word is drawn out, lingering in the air like the musky aroma of your sex. My fingers stroke the outer folds of your cunt, spreading them wide for my leaky pole. I’ve never felt you this wet before; your juices cover your ass cheeks and the inside of your thighs like grease. Your wetness excites me so much that my cock jumps and brushes your clitoris. You cry out at the contact and a jolt of electricity surges through us both. For a split second we pause, staring at each other. Then we are both giggling like schoolchildren. Our first laugh of the day.

In the moments it takes us to recover – not hurriedly, to be sure; like so many moments of today, this one seems to take on a dimension of its own and time does not intrude on it – I reflect upon the sound of your laughter and the joy it brings me. For me, it is like music from heaven.

Our second attempt at coupling succeeds in lodging the head of my penis securely inside you. Before I can start thrusting, you stop me. Placing your hands on my chest, you raise up into a sitting position. You balance there for a moment, your thighs like bands of velvet steel. You close your eyes and your tongue races over your lips. Slowly, very slowly, you gobble me inside of you.

The sight before me is so incredible that my first wish is for a camera. If only you could share this, if only you could see how beautiful – how sexy – you look. Your outer vaginal lips are stretched taut and your clitoral hood is drawn back, leaving your love mound completely exposed. Little by little, your slick outer folds suck me into your darker mysteries. Your breath catches as you absorb each new inch of my meat. Your fingers become claws and rake down my chest.

At last I disappear inside you and your cherry walls subside around me. Nothing is visible now except for the dark curls of our pubic mounds, matted with your honey. You open your eyes and smile, leaning down to kiss me.

“I wish you could know how this feels,” you say. You wiggle your ass, sighing as you do so. “I’m so full!’ Without rising up, you rotate your hips forward and back, grinding your clit against me. “Oh, God!” Your eyes are closed again and I can tell from the way your legs are shaking that you’re going to come quickly. For the moment I stay perfectly still, allowing you to use my hardness as you see fit.

At times like this, a small voice will sometimes whisper inside my mind. “Look at her!” it says. “She’s gone – lost in her own little world. You’re not even here. It might as well be a vibrator or a dildo or even another man’s cock inside of her!” And I wonder: Am I the only one possessed of such weakness? Or do all men suffer the same reptilian insecurities?

Of course, I know better. We are soul mates, joined in so many subtle ways that our sexual coupling serves only as the most obvious form of our union. It stands as our public and private offering to the gods of love and good fortune, for we are forever indebted to both. It is my cock that you crave. Just as for me, there can be no honeyed temple but yours.

And in those moments our bond is so strong, that even as the voice hisses lizard-like in my mind, you will know. Lost in the throes of your orgasm, a part of you will still be aware of me and my self-induced frailties. And in my mind, your sweet voice will whisper, “Je t’aime, my darling. I am yours forever.”

A moan slips from your mouth. “Oh, God. Yes!” You lose control as the climax spreads through your body. Your face grows flushed and the skin around your breasts darkens as your heart struggles to handle the rush. Beads of sweat pop up on your skin only to fall on me like languid drops of fire. Once again my wish is for a camera to capture the moment. When you come, your face glows with an inner light that begs description. Framed by the canopy of your dark tresses, it bursts from your pores and swirls around you like motes of sunlight.

As it dissipates, your body crumbles against mine and I hold you tightly. Your breath is hot and ragged on my neck; your back and shoulders slick with sweat. Gradually, your breathing slows and becomes more rhythmic. For a time we lie so still that I think you must have fallen asleep, and at that thought my cock jerks in disappointment. After a moment, you lift your head. Your smile is playful.

“Hey, horsey,” you say. “Is that all the ride I get? I thought I had me a buckin’ bronco, not an old gelding. I may have to complain to the management.” Your tongue traces a line around my lips and flicks at my teeth. An involuntary spasm jerks my hips upwards, driving my cock against your cervix. Your eyelids flutter and you suck at your lower lip. “What’s this? Is there some life in this stallion yet?”

My hips start to thrust, slow and steady. You roll with the gentle motion, every inch the horsewoman astride her favorite steed. “C’mon,” you say. “Is that the best you can do?”

I pick up the pace a little, my hands still resting lightly on your back. Your breasts bounce in time with the beat and I realize suddenly that I haven’t yet given them any attention. I cup them with my hands, flicking at the nipples with my thumbs. Full and round, your tits overflow my palms. Luscious fruit with nipples that pop out, full and dark, begging to be sucked. Before I can do so, you lean over me again and fasten your lips on my earlobe.

“Have I ever told you,” you whisper, “how I love the way your thick cock feels inside of me?” You pause briefly for another swipe at my ear and then continue, “And did you know that I can tell the exact moment when that big, fat cock of yours starts to fill me with come?” You lean back to look at me; fully aware of the effect your words are having.

My cock starts to pound you now; each thrust is like a jackhammer. Your eyes close and your head rolls back. “Oh, yeah!” you gasp. “Good horsey! Do you think you can buck me, horsey? Huh? Do you think you can get me off?”

A growl forces its way from my throat. Two can play this game, I think. I grab your breasts and hold them in front of my mouth. I clear my throat and utter my first words of the morning. “I already got you off, baby! This is my turn!” Each word is separated by the punctuation of my cock sliding home. I pull first one nipple and then the other into my mouth; my tongue whips them mercilessly.

“Oh, yesss!” Your moan becomes incoherent. My lips fasten on a fat, lush nipple and suck hard. “God, yesss! That’s it!” Finally, because I’m about to come and because I know what you want, I carefully slip your nipple between my teeth and, while lashing the bud with my tongue, I bite down.

The effect on both of us is electric. Your moan escalates into a scream of pure lust. My cock explodes inside of you as spurt after spurt of my seed fills your syrupy tunnel. Shockwaves roll through us; surges of pleasure that threaten to make us lose consciousness. We hold each other, riding the joyous waves together. We kiss, at first passionately and then, as the pleasure begins to subside, with tenderness. Exhausted, we lay back on the sweat-soaked sheets and are still.

I don’t know how long we stay like that. At length, however, we stir. Light, feathery touches and strokes mingle with silky kisses. At some point, a semblance of reality finally intrudes. You kiss me lovingly and then push me off the bed.

“You,” you say, pointing to the kitchen. “Go make coffee. And get the paper while you’re at it.” But you’re smiling as you say it.

To Be Continued...

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