Nichole bent over and kissed Michael hard. Her tongue entwined with his. He could taste himself in her mouth. Her hair brushed against his face.
"My turn," she whispered in his ear.
Nichole lifted herself up and bounced down again on his cock. She cried out. Sitting up, she took his hands in hers and placed them on her breasts. He began to knead them together. He pinched her nipples.
"That feels so fucking good," Nichole moaned. "I love it when you play with my tits."
"I love it when you ride my cock."
Nichole leaned forward into Michael's hands, so he could steady her. His favourite part was coming up.
Very quickly, she began to bounce up and down on his cock, impaling herself on her lover. Her husband.
With every stroke, she cried out a little louder. She closed her eyes.
Up and down. Faster. Harder.
"You are so hard for me," she gasped. "You feel so good."
"Cum for me," Michael whispered. "Cum all over me."
Nichole threw her head back, pushing her chest out. Michael squeezed her breasts hard. She lost herself as her orgasm built.
The cock inside her touched all the sensitive spots. She heard her ass slapping against Michael's hips every time she came down on him. Her moans turned to screams.
Harder. Faster.
As if in a dream, she heard Michael say, "I'm about to cum inside you. Please cum with me. Cum on me."
With a feral moan, Nichole brought herself down on him and the fireworks started. For a brief instant, she forgot who she was. She forgot who she was with. All she cared about was the fire that consumed her. The passion that enveloped her.
Her pussy filled with her cum, coating Michael's cock and flowing down on his balls and to the bed. In her eyes, colours flared, her vision focused singly on her husband's face, lost in his own orgasm. She continued to grind against him, rubbing her clit against the base of his cock, frantically trying to take as much of him inside her as she could.
It seemed to never end. She hoped it would never end.
She stopped moving, taking all of his length inside her. Maybe it was imagined, maybe it wasn't, but she could feel his cock head pulsing inside her, emptying his balls into her womb.
Her orgasm subsided, but didn't go away. There was a pleasant buzzing in her ears. She could feel her heart pounding.
Only Michael's strong, steady grip kept her from falling over.
A contented smile formed on her lips. Nichole took her husband's hands from her breasts and without dismounting him, straightened her legs and lay on top of him. She pressed against his chest. Michael held her close. Her toes still tingled.
They kissed again. Tenderly. Lovingly.
"Thank you." Michael said softly.
"Shhhh, you're asleep." Nichole rested her head on his shoulder, listening to their hearts beating together.
She drifted off with him inside her.
* * *
Nichole felt good to be out with Terra and her friends. For the last year, she had been despondent over Michael's death, but her grief had given way to loneliness, her heartache reduced to a dull, empty place in her soul.
Terra, Gabriel, Julie, Mark and Laurie gave Nichole her space, but clearly wanted her to let go of her solitude, even if only for a night. After dinner, they went to the club, where Mark had made arrangements for some of the cast of Naked Boys Singing, to give Julie a special birthday performance.
For the rest of the night, Nichole forgot about Michael. She forgot about the sad look on her father's face when he came to her doorstep. She forgot about the trip to the hospital. She forgot about her heart breaking when she saw Michael's broken body. She forgot about the funeral.
With her friends and a bunch of naked gay men singing, dancing, and goofing off, Nichole laughed. Sometimes so much her stomach hurt and she couldn't breathe. Sometimes so hard tears streamed down her cheeks.
It was the best time she had since, well, since Michael died.
"Do you want me to stay with you?" Terra asked at the end of the night.
"No," Nichole said. She didn't want to go home and be alone, but she wasn't dreading it either. "I'll be all right."
* * *
Nichole woke up alone. She heard Michael in the bathroom. It sounded like he was shaving. She lifted her head. It was almost eleven. Her hair was a mess. She could smell Michael's sweat and cologne on the pillow. The sweetness of her own sexual exertions mixed with Michael's.
"Honey," she called out. "Come back to bed."
"Not a chance, you minx." Michael's head appeared in the door. "We're supposed to meet everyone for lunch at noon."
Nichole rolled over on her side so she faced her husband. She beckoned to him. "C'mon, Michael. Meet your fate like a man."
"Come shower with me." He was trying to placate her and delay the inevitable.
Nichole threw off the covers, exposing her naked body. "I'm waiting."
"Good lord!" Michael laughed. "You're insatiable."
"I'm a newlywed. And I'm horny," she purred. She rolled over on her back and spread her legs. She ran one hand the length of her body, her fingernails brushing her skin. Nichole settled her hand on her breast and began rolling the nipple between two fingers. "Now get over here and perform your husbandly duties."
The smile disappeared from Michael's face. Nichole could tell he was getting hard. Michael's eyes burned with desire.
Nichole's other hand went to her pussy, which was filled with cum, both from her and her husband. She pressed two fingers against her clit. She moaned softly.
"I'm going to get off with or without you, Penguin," she called again. Her hand moved faster. "I'd rather it was with you."
She looked over at Michael. He was standing in the doorway. Naked. His cock was hard. He was stroking it.
"We'd better not be late."
"If we are," Nichole sighed as she struck a sensitive spot. "You can spank me."
She closed her eyes. The hand on her breast squeezed. She bit her lip. She could hear Michael approaching her. Then she felt his weight upon her and the first day of their marriage started with fireworks.
* * *
Nichole arrived at her apartment a little after midnight. It was dark.
Opening the door, the only light in the apartment was from the small desk lamp in the foyer that she left on all the time. She walked into the kitchen, past all of the pictures hanging in the hall of the short time she and Michael had together.
For the first time in a year, Nichole didn't dread walking into the bedroom and wasn't deafened by the silence of Michael's absence. She undressed and got ready for bed. Her hair smelled of smoke and liquor splashed around by the Naked Boys.
Pulling her favourite nightshirt over her head, she crawled into bed with her penguin. Out of habit, she crawled into "her" side. Within a few minutes she was asleep. When she woke up, she was in the middle of the bed.
* * *
The next year and a half was idyllic. With the company under Michael's capable guidance, Ernie and John retired. Nichole continued to work as a translator and business consultant while working on her graduate degree at NYU.
They spent their honeymoon in the Caribbean and for Christmas, Nichole took her husband to Hong Kong. They talked of starting a family. They planned the rest of their lives together. Neither knew what the future held, but they fell deeper in love.
On baseball's opening day, Michael planned to drive up to Boston with some friends to see his Yankees play the Red Sox. It was a cool Saturday morning and they woke up with the sun. Michael and his buddies were leaving late morning and coming back later that night.
Nichole rested her head on his chest. His strong arms held her close. He patted her on the backside and drew her close. He cupped her face with his hand and she kissed him.
"I love you," she said quietly, pulling back as Michael tried to kiss her again. She smiled. "I've got a surprise for you this morning."
"What is i
t?"
"I'm going to shower and make you breakfast."
"In bed?"
"Not quite."
With that, she bounded out of bed, naked, and went into the shower, wiggling her ass teasingly at her husband. She had a lot of work to do and wanted to be extra clean for him.
A short time later, Nichole came out of the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel. Her hair was pulled back, still damp. Michael was in bed, watching Animal Planet; Predators & Scavengers, or something like that.
Nichole went over to him and kissed Michael on the cheek. He tried to grope her under the towel.
"Hey, keep your hands to yourself," she loved watching him pout. "Or you won't get any breakfast."
Nichole paused once more at the door before closing it. "Don't come out until I call you."
At one time, their apartment was one big room. The building itself was formerly a warehouse. When it was bought and renovated for residential use, the owner divided up the floors into suites. Michael rented out two of the apartments on the fourth floor and combined them into one big apartment.
The walls were still the original brick with high vaulted ceilings and large bay windows that wrapped around the entire building. Since they had almost half the floor, there were lots of large open areas with hardwood floors that reflected the warmth of Michael and Nichole.
The kitchen and living area was one big space with an island in the middle of the cooking area. In one corner was an informal dining area, with some couches and chairs near the windows where Nichole and Michael relaxed when no one else was around.
Nichole was a fairly good cook, but not as good as Michael. She descended on the kitchen, putting some bacon in a frying pan, some pancakes on the skillet and cut up some fruit. Nichole got out her mother's made-from-scratch biscuit recipe and went to work. She heard Michael start the shower.
Then she began setting out her other breakfast treats.
"That smells great, honey," Michael called when he was done cleaning himself. "Is breakfast ready?"
"Almost." She replied, checking to make sure everything was in place.
She threw her towel across the room and set the last few items in just the right places. "Okay, Michael, come and get it."
Michael opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks.
The previous Fall, they took a trip to Ohio to visit some of Nichole's friends from college. While in Amish country, they picked up a magnificent table and had it shipped home. It was a rectangular picnic-style table with benches, hand made with typical, high-quality Amish craftsmanship. The heavy oak wood was stained to bring out a deep, rich colour.
One of the benches was on the side of the table, the other was at the foot, perpendicular to the table. Several candles were lit around the kitchen and dining area, their vanilla-scented wax permeating the air. Nichole was lying on her back, her feet on the bench with her freshly-shaved pussy showing for her husband.
Breakfast was all over the table. And Nichole. Michael chuckled at his wife's creativity.
A tuft of whipped cream covered each of her nipples. Strawberries and slices of melon covered her stomach. Bacon, eggs and pancakes were on a plate between her legs. A biscuit was on each thigh, which also drizzled with honey and chocolate chips on her smooth skin.
"Looks good enough to eat," Michael said. He bent over and kissed Nichole. A long, deep, messy kiss.
"It's all here for your culinary delight," Nichole smiled when he let her come up for air.
"Where do I sit?"
"At my feet, of course."
Michael sat on the bench, careful not to pull it out from under Nichole's feet. Nichole had a pillow under her head and she watched Michael begin his breakfast. His eyes kept drifting to her smooth pussy, spread wide for him.
Every couple of bites, Michael stood and fed his wife a piece of melon or strip of bacon. He took a biscuit off her thigh, cut it in half, then scraped a knife across her leg, slowly, collecting the honey. A chill ran up her spine.
When he was done with his plate, he took it to the sink then came back and sat on the bench next to his wife. There was still some fruit on Nichole's stomach. He took a piece in his hand and then sucked the whipped cream off one nipple. It was hard underneath.
In a small circle around her areola, Michael pressed the melon against Nichole's breast. It was cold. She shivered with delight.
He popped the cantaloupe into her mouth
Then Michael took another melon bite and paid the same attention to her other breast, feeding it to himself. She felt her nipple in his mouth. His teeth bit it softly and he pulled gently. Her breast stretched until he let it go. Her chest jiggled.
When all the fruit was gone he kissed her from her the base of her breasts to her hips, sucking up all the fruit juices. Nichole bit her lip to keep from crying out with pleasure.
Michael began to knead her breasts in his hands. He kissed her again. Her tongue worked its way into his mouth. She bit his lip softly.
Reaching over to a vase on the table, Michael took a rose in his mouth, careful not to stick himself with a thorn. His hands returned to her breasts.
Slowly, deliberately, he brushed the rose against Nichole cheek. The soft petals made her skin crawl.
Michael's hands began to wander, rubbing, caressing. His featherlight touch tickled and teased her in all the right places.
The flower brushed against her breasts. Nichole arched her back with pleasure and moaned softly.
Michael worked his way down her body until he was sitting on the bench again between her legs.
Placing the rose on the table, Michael began to lick the rest of the honey off her thighs. His lips lingered on her skin.
Michael's teeth scraped against her. Nichole moaned again, louder.
She could feel her sex throbbing. He was so close to where she wanted him, but delighted in teasing her. Gradually, he worked his way up each leg, nibbling on every square inch. Driving her crazy. Until all the honey was gone.
The kisses became longer, more intense. He bit the most sensitive part, just on the inside of her thigh. Nichole gasped. He did it again on the other side.
She reached down and ran her fingers through his hair. Her eyes were closed.
Nichole felt him pull back, then his hands were under her ass. He pulled her body towards him and set her back down so her ass was on the edge of the table. Her feet still rested on the bench.
And then he kissed her.
All the blood in her body seemed to rush into her clit as Michael's lips enveloped her.
"Holy God!" Nichole cried out. "That feels so good, Michael!"
His tongue flicked against her clit. She could feel his breath against her skin, still sensitive from the shaving.
Michael took her clit between his lips and squeezed. Nichole squealed with delight.
In small circles and then larger ones, Michael massaged her sex with his tongue and mouth. Nichole couldn't contain herself and began to buck against him. Her hand gripped his head and she pulled him towards her.
A finger replaced the tongue on her pussy. "If you don't stop moving, I'll quit."
She moaned in protest.
"But that feels so good . . . "
Michael resumed his oral attack on his wife's pussy. She could barely contain herself.
"Oh, Michael . . . God, that feels so good . . . so good . . . Yes! Right there! Right there! Yes, Michael . . ."
She felt is tongue enter her. He was breathing on her clit. She was in heaven.
Strong hands lifted her buttocks off the table as Michael devoured her sex. Biting. Nibbling.
He lapped up her juices. Nichole closed her eyes as she felt her climax approaching.
"Yes, right there . . . That's the spot, Michael . . . That's it . . ."
She closed her eyes and started to see flashes of colour. The fireworks were about to start.
"I love the way you eat my pussy . . . I love . . . Oh!"
His tongue mashed against her
swollen clit.
"Oh, God! . . . I'm about to cum . . ."
The room started to spin.
"I'm about to . . . Oh, yes! . . . Oh, God, I'm . . ."
Her toes tingled.
"Yes . . . Yes! Eat me, Michael . . . Eat meeeee! . . . NOOOOOOOO!"
She howled with frustration as she heard Michael push the bench he was sitting on back. He lifted her off the table. She was so close!
Her feet hit the floor and her legs almost gave out. Michael's arms steadied her. Frantically, she reached down and began to finger herself, rubbing her clit, trying to summon the orgasm that was slipping away.
"Put your hands on the table," he commanded.
She ignored him, desperately trying to finish herself off. A sharp slap! across the backside got her attention.
"Please, Michael," she wailed. "I need to cum!"
"Put your hands on the table," he said again, forcefully. When she paused another slap! stung her bare bottom.
Each hand went to the edge of the table. Michael pushed her forward so her rear was sticking out. He hooked one foot inside her ankle and kicked her legs apart. She stood there, bending over, her arms and legs spread.
Michael pressed against her back. She could feel his hard cock through his sweatpants. She pressed her ass against him.
"What did I tell you not to do?"
"But it felt so good . . . you were—"
Slap!
"What did I tell you not to do?"
"You told me not to move," she cried out plaintively.
"And what did you do?"
"I couldn't help it, Michael! I need—"
Slap!
"And what did you do?"
"I need to cum, Michael!" Tears of frustration began to run down her cheeks. "Please, Michael! Please eat—"
Slap! Slap!
"And what did you do?"
"I moved," she whispered. "I moved when you told me not to."
"That's better," he whispered back in her ear. His breath tickled and aroused his earlobe. His hand gently caressed her stinging backside, which surely was a bright red from the spanking.
He took her earlobe between his lips and sucked gently. She moaned with pleasure. He continued down her neck, leaving a trail of wet, sloppy kisses, then blew cold air along the same path. She shivered with pleasure.
Erotic Stories Page 14
