by Hazel Parker
It felt as though I was just beginning to thaw out a bit, though, and accordingly I felt it only proper that I reach up and reciprocate his efforts. His own skin felt pleasantly warm to the touch, a bit damp from perspiration perhaps, but overall quite wonderful. I loved the chiseled nature of his features, and the act of peering into those mesmerizing eyes of his became far, far easier the longer I attempted it.
And finally, I began to lean into him, slowly, very slowly, and in the very very back of my mind I was distantly aware of Philip leaning forward in his chair to gawk at us as we neared one another's lips. But, at this point, I was so swept up by the mood and the tipsiness of the alcohol that the presence of my boyfriend was an entirely secondary matter. In fact, it began to feel as though he was no longer in the room at all, disappeared suddenly and without warning, and leaving me to do something very, very naughty with this quite devilishly handsome stranger.
And then our lips met.
Sparks of sensation began to surge from my mouth into the rest of my anatomy, causing me to gasp and inhale Mark's breath and to tremble as the sweet, sweet air swept into my lungs. All inhibition seemed to bleed away in that moment, all thought ceasing, as I was inundated by the glorious sensations of romance, the miraculous fact of supervised infidelity, and the splendor of giving myself up to a strange and potentially dangerous new male presence in my life.
We pulled apart after what must have been several minutes. Staring into one another's eyes, and my desire for him at last uncorked to the extent it needed to be. Then, the two of us flung back into one another at almost devastating speed, and all hell broke loose right there on the spot. This time around, the two of us kissed like there was absolutely no fucking tomorrow.
Our mouths locked together as though to never again be separated, our arms wrapping around one another and our hands sliding greedily along every warm surface. Every sweet nook and every crevice, feeling one another up, massaging and caressing with such glorious reverence that I began to shudder beneath the sweet splendor of his touch.
It was a sheer beauty of an affair to say the least. Hot and sticky and agonizing, one act flowing into the next with almost undetectable transition. After some time of the two of us locking lips and swapping spit in this manner, my new lover began to peel me out of my clothes. Article by article by article, denuding me of my blouse and my skirt, and spending a dreadful amount of time on my lingerie.
He playfully worked the straps up and down as though threatening to finish the job but never progressing all the way. The warm sliding of his palms an agonizing experience, and the sweat percolating from my pores as the moments ticked by. At last, he did get around to stripping me of my bra and tossing the fabric off the bed, promptly bringing his face to my titties and suckling on me like a fucking newborn.
His tongue rolled in slow, agonizing circles around the perimeter of my nipples, his teeth sinking lightly into me, and causing the flesh to grow hard, erect, and sensitized with arousal. I moaned as though the life itself was flowing out of me, and shook with pleasure as he seized the opposite tit in his fingers, squeezing it tightly, and nearly causing me to collapse from the sensation.
Then, when I was thoroughly putty beneath his grip, he pulled away from me, leaning back, and peeling out of his own shirt. I gazed in awe for several moments at the sweaty, heaving plains of his musculature, his pecs and his six-pack abdominals, and certainly not least of all the deeply cut V-lines of his Adonis muscles, mouthwatering and decadent. So rich that I could barely stand to look at them for long without feeling overwhelmed.
He fell gently back down onto me, descending onto my body like a blanket and ravishing me with his warmth. After so much temptation he put his hands on the waistline of my panties, slowly beginning to slide me out of them. To dredge the fabric down, down, down along me, from my waist to my thighs to my knees, all the way down to around my ankles. Then, he proceeded to push my thighs wide open, my buttocks trembling as I braced myself for his arrival, his head drifting forward as though to unbirth himself, and my eyelids drifting slowly shut.
I started, shrieking with pleasure as I felt the hot, wet spade of his tongue piercing softly into me, scraping into the floral folds of my pussy and scooping up through my anatomy in a manner that defies description. He kissed my cunt, and tasted me as though its flavor was perhaps the most decadent thing he had ever before had the pleasure of devouring. He licked and lapped and suckled on my pussy with the most agonizing of slowness, gradually working his head into a bobbing, agonizing rhythm, and my thighs beginning to tremble uncontrollably as he progressed his way through my body.
My knees begin to collapse around his beautiful, bobbing head, seeming as though they might reasonably cave in his skull with pressure as the sensations racked my body, my nerves lighting up like the lights of a fucking Christmas tree, and my anatomy so boggled with pleasure that I couldn't have told you which way was up.
And then, after what seemed a lifetime of this torment, Mark's tongue hit my sweet spot, and I began to moan with orgasm, my spine arching and my buttocks clenching, every inch of my flesh seeming to convulse and to tighten, then to slacken and unravel as I slowly drifted back down. The waves of climax like some destructive force, and yet the agony, I knew, only just beginning.
He pulled his face from between my legs, leaving my cunt in piece for little more than a moment before getting onto the main and devastating attraction. He slid out of his pants, allowing them to go toppling to the floor, and followed promptly by his underwear. I was astonished by the sight of his massive, veiny prick, throbbing and erect and so maddening to look at that I wished I could put that fucking monstrosity in a frame and hang it up on the bedroom wall.
But just as I accustomed myself to its visage it disappeared, inside myself of all places, where it could be put to its full and furious use. Mark put his hands on my legs, and pushed them up, up, up, up, pinning my ankles around my ears, and causing me to quiver with anticipation as he proceeded to mount my stretched out anatomy. He slid his pelvis up onto my own, the scorching heat of his cock feeling absolutely glorious as it seeped through my body like a damn drug.
I braced myself, then, and let out a tremendous gasp as he began to penetrate me, piercing the sopping wet, sensitized lips of my gash with his sharp and engorged tip, stretching me wide apart, and sinking so devastatingly into me that I thought I might die before he even truly got started. Inch by inch by inch of his immensity came cleaving apart my beaver like there was no tomorrow.
My body struggling to contain all of it as he stuffed the last few millimeters inside me, tears practically beginning to stream down my cheeks as he at last pressed down lodged deep into my gash, and the stillness that followed at the moment of his completed entry unlike anything I could have imagined.
And then, he tore into me without mercy. There were a few long, slow strokes to limber me up, but there was no real preparing me for just what he had in store for my cunt, the vicious pounding and thrusting and fucking, churning me up so devastatingly that I thought there might not be that much left of me by the time all was said and done.
I moaned passionately, my body devastated by the severe force of his thrusts, every nerve on fire, and my anatomy so overwhelmed by him that when the moment came, I sure as hell knew it was going to be a bad one. And sure enough, with one final, intense strike, he slammed his cock up into me, nearly striking my innermost core with his engorged tip and holding himself in place.
His shaft throbbing inside me, an imminently spilling over the edge. Pulse after pulse after pulse of his hot, molten sperm came launching up into me, filling me up to the brim, and setting me over the edge with pleasure. Orgasm ripped through my anatomy with redoubled force this time around, leveling me to no small end and causing me to scream forth at the very top of my lungs.
In spite of my many, many inhibitions about all of this, I felt somehow so enamored my Mark and so desirous of his body that I simply couldn't believe it, and by the
time he pulled out of me I had made up my mind about something that was, in fact, rather quite drastic.
Chapter 2
I left Philip after that night, moving in with Mark almost immediately, on what you might tend to consider little more than a whim. It was sudden, yes, not so much the breaking up part as the moving in with a complete stranger whom I'd fucked one time, and about whom I knew practically absolute zilch. But, quite frankly, I was sick and tired of all Philip's experimenting, and I realized after the night of the cuckolding that the only thing that was keeping me tied up in the relationship was a lack of other options.
In so many ways, what the two of us had once shared, felt as though it had gone largely stale so long ago, and any chance at revitalizing the hollow shell of our love seemed like it would be little but a vanity. Mark, for as little as I knew about him, seemed to fulfill a need in me that I'd almost forgotten I had at all after so many months spent with Philip. In fact, I felt very much the same way with him as I had when Philip and I had originally started dating, and I felt as though some sort of vitality had been restored to me with even the faintest application of Mark's touch against my skin.
It felt so fucking wonderful to be wrapped up in his arms, and I think from that first touch onward I felt a conviction that Mark was wholly the write person for me to have in my life. Of course, Philip and I had shared a history together, but I was just too exhausted by him to see the cons of our relationship outweighing the pros any longer. I needed this change desperately, and given that Mark had an apartment to himself and seemed enthusiastic about the idea, it seemed like it was the best solution for all involved for me to move in with him.
Philip, of course, was unhappy about it, perhaps devastated even, although he didn't let his emotions show all that much either way. As far as I was concerned, his priority needed to be getting his shit together, and realizing that he was a lot to deal with for any woman he hoped to be with. And though I was certain he could find someone somewhere who would be up for the sort of kinks he so desperately craved, I most definitely was not that kind of woman.
Sex with Mark, after so much of Philip's bullshit in the past, was absolutely wonderful. The two of us largely confined our love to the basic “vanilla” guidelines within each of our comfort zones. Instead of outlandish new toys and convoluted sex devices, Mark took care of my pussy by simply utilizing what he had, emphasizing skilled technique over Philip's series of zany novelties, and in doing so endowing me with the sort of mind-boggling romance that I had for so long craved.
Not to mention, in case you hadn't noticed me saying so, Mark had a pretty big wang on him, and I felt as though that largely aided in our bedroom proceedings to no small degree...
At any rate, things seemed to be going well between the two of us for quite some time. Though I'd doubted that I could find another emotional connection like that which I felt with Philip, and in fact that had been one of the major things prompting me to keep our dead relationship alive for as long as possible. I felt as though Mark and I shared a largely similar chemistry. He and I actually enjoyed doing things together, both in and out of the bedroom, and for the first couple of weeks, at least, it felt as though the decision to leave Philip had been one of the best I'd made in some time.
And then I missed my period...
I hadn't even realized it at first, and when I did there was, of course, that initial shock of doubt. I quickly calmed myself, though, with the knowledge that the birth control I was on had this sort of effect on me, causing my periods to grow far lighter and, often times, missing me altogether. It must have just been one of those months, I decided, and was able to forget about the matter easily enough for the most part.
It was a little bit less simple to ignore the gradual swelling of my belly, or the engorgement of my breasts and the expansion and darkening of my nipples, or, for that matter, the morning sickness or the insatiable appetites for pickles and ice cream.
Naturally, this presented any number of problems... Not least among these was the fact that, much to my disgrace at the time, I couldn't say with any real degree of certainty which of the two of my most recent lovers was responsible for the planting of his seed in my womb. I tried to calculate the moment of my realization as closely as I could and work backwards, but for the life of me there was no way for me to be certain which of the two men, Mark or Philip, had impregnated me.
I mean, I'd had sex with Philip in the shower the very night before my first time fucking Mark, and particularly given the fact that I hadn't even taken definite note of the date of my first missed period, there was just no way for me to tell which of the two of them must have swollen my gut.
I tried to pretend, for Mark's sake that that the baby must have been, and though he responded with a bit of expected anxiousness at first, he at last seemed to warm up to the idea of being a father, and began to grow enthusiastic about the prospect as the weeks rolled along. But I just couldn't shake the notion that I might just be lying to myself and to him as to the baby's true parentage, and I knew deep down that having him raise this child without even letting Philip know was the wrong thing to do.
Damning the makers of my failed birth control all the while, I at last forced myself to phone up my ex-boyfriend. Inviting him over to Mark's apartment, and sitting them down for what I felt certain would be an incredibly unpleasant discussion. Suffice it to say, however, things didn't quite go as I'd expected them to once the three of us were all seated in the living room.
Understandably enough, Mark seemed just the least bit pissed about the fact that I'd hidden the possibility of Philip being the real father from him. I mean, he should reasonably have been able to deduce this on his own, but my feeding of the myth had still more than likely been the wrong thing for me to be doing all that time. And Philip, well, you can bet that he was astonished at the fact of my pregnancy, and he seemed to be a bit hesitant to accept its very fact given the recent nature of our falling out. I don't think he wanted to dig up old bones, as it were, and get himself re-involved in the life of a woman who'd left him so suddenly- even if he did have it coming to him...
But then something strange started to happen...
As the discussion wore on, the atmosphere in the room began to thicken with this sort of heated, erotic tension. Like, I don't know if it was my pregnant hormones, or else the situation itself that was causing things to heat up in this way- and by situation, I mean the competitive nature of two men trying to decide whose little wrigglers had successfully impregnated the body of so fine a female specimen as myself...
But at any rate, something or other led to the three of us sort of levitating toward one another, and an almost makeshift family unit to form between the strange and unlikely triad.
And finally, somehow or another, Mark and Philip were finding themselves engaged in a threesome with a six-month pregnant woman...
My head was spinning as the two of them passed me back and forth between the two of them, unable to even fathom what it was I was getting myself into. Yet finding that I wanted it quite desperately all the same. I savored the way in which they ravished my swollen body with what almost might be considered a holy reverence, their unmistakable desire for me kept only in check by the fact of my delicate pregnancy. I was sandwiched between the two men's warm bodies in an agonizing fashions, Mark in front of me and Philip behind me, kisses being pecked hot and wet all over my lips and my cheeks and my chin and my neck.
They began to peel me out of my clothes, their sweaty palms sliding all over me as our forbidden romance progressed, and me, all the while, moaning with delight at the burning of their touch. The exposure of my naked body taking entirely too long for me to withstand, and yet the speed of our progression causing my head to spin all the while. The fabric of my maternity dress and my frankly uncomely stretch pants came fluttering down onto the floor, and each man took on a respective role in denuding me of my lingerie.
Philip unhooked the clasp of my bra from between my sho
ulder blades and slid the straps down along my arms, at last peeling the cups from my presently gigantic titties and tossing the thing to the floor. He cupped his fingers into my breasts from behind and I moaned with desire for the two of them, and all the while Mark hunkered down beneath my pregnant belly, and peeled the lacy fabric of my panties down, down, down off of my legs.
I stood completely naked between the two of them now, and they themselves began to undress as well in order to join me in this primal state. As muscle was unveiled beneath the sliding of fabric, then, they reconvened around me in sandwich fashion once again, their hot cocks dreadfully beautiful as they pushed up against my bare flesh, and Philip's erection in particular driving me wild as it slid up and down between my trembling, sweaty buttocks.
The three of us formed into a circle, and began to kiss in a sweet, agonizing daisy chain. Mark's lips were on mine, his tongue jousting and licking my cheeks and gouging toward my windpipe, and then mine were on Philip's a reunion I could not possibly have imagined as being as sweet as it was. His once-familiar flavor like some incredible nostalgia as it came pouring back into me.
