Mid Week Fantasizing (X) — Of Opposite Poles and Dichotomies

This isn’t exactly fantasizing. It did happen this past summer. But as I awoke with a very hard erection this morning, thoughts of the hotel room came flooding back. Pay it Forward at Joyce Gordon Gallery backside of flier For well more than an hour she had had an orgasm every several seconds. No more than 15 to 20 seconds apart for 60+ minutes. I had fed her voracious need with my cock, my tongue, her vibrator, and for the longest time, my fingers and hand. Four fingers worked best. Pressing her g-spot firmly sent her over the precipice and usually meant a warm, powerful gush into my open palm.  I was falling deeply for her as I studied her face the whole time. I spoke softly to her, I whispered my love in her ear.

There were no words back, only slight nods in acknowledgement, the pleasure too numbing.  Placid, classic beauty shifted through the seconds into a wanton, needing goddess of the feminine divine. She arched, she contorted, her green orbs rolled back. The slightly parted lips revealing the pearls of her teeth rounded into a perfect “O” before the animal groan to her climax. The off white hotel room’s walls surely were over the saturation point absorbing the flood of orgasmic grunts. While one hand pressed in her pussy, my other would gently enclose her slim neck, or circle and tweak her erect nipples. Fingers lovingly stroked her cheek and then could slide down  and brush along her abdomen and drop to fondle along the inside of a thigh. Each light touch of my hand stoked the embers of ecstasy that coursed through her body.

At last my own wantonness began to return. I could feel the hardness happening. I half chuckled at nature’s perversity, the female’s ability to orgasm almost continuously when lovingly stimulated contrasted to the male’s requirement to regroup and refresh.

I told her to get on her hands and knees. She complied without a word and languidly, turned and raised herself.  I moved her to the side of the bed. As I felt her soft skin along the length of her back and my fingers caressed her upturned ass, I thought of the contrast she would be feeling as my steel like erection would enter her. I forewarned of the abrupt change with a quick, hard push down on her back, driving her head into the pillow.

I grabbed her arms and clasping her wrists with my left hand, I pinned them behind her back and jammed her down harder with my right.  Then using my right to guide, I slowly entered her dripping, waiting pussy. I heard … I felt … her gasp. Pumping slowly into her, my erection was stiffening like mad, as though I hadn’t already cum hard several times earlier.

The room held nothing but contrasts. Dim natural light slipping between darkened curtains shadowing the white lovers’ bodies. The young, beautiful, soft and nubile … the old, hard and grizzled. The warm … the cold. The south … the north.

I watched my reflection in the grey glass of the picture across the room. Taut torso, bending backward before each thrust. The act, a physical need as old as the beginning of the species, yet the emotional bond as deep as the human soul can dive. How can these polar opposites possibly attract? How can a momentary union connect and bond two so disparate creatures together perpetually as one?

Her breathing moved up tempo, her moaning intensified. I could feel her as she clenched around my hardness. Cries and gurgling were pushing me to the edge. As I continued to hold her wrists tightly, the walls suddenly echoed with her shout as she came hard.  Two, maybe three, probably four pumps later I, too cried out savagely. I held her, releasing her wrists, with one arm around the front of her body, my head resting gingerly on her back. More whispers in her ear. Then we decoupled, her head safely cached upon my shoulder.

Sweet, soft words and tender grasps and touching. I kissed her forehead, and then her lips Her breasts begged for my hands, her nipples my fingers. The touching commenced anew. The embers inside began to glow. This goddess was far from sated.

I knew four fingers would work best.

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Sea Waves [VI] – Words and Scenes

I apologize to you, my poor readers. This has been so drawn out. The truth is that I have been so overwhelmed with everything that happened over those three days that I have not been able to organize, prioritize, and itemize all that transpired. And so I have given up!

Rather I have decided to give you a stream of consciousness view of my memory from that incredible meeting.  These thoughts will bear no relation to order of time, nor impact.

In case you have forgotten here are the preludes leading up to Cassandra’s visit Sea Waves [I]  Sea Waves [IISea Waves [III]   Sea Waves [IV] and  Sea Waves [V]

Here goes:

Initial kissing and cuddling. Hands touching, squeezing, caressing. Bodies writhing. Clothing discarded. Naked closeness. No time for breathing. Massage. Wonderful taste as lips, tongue, mouth, and fingers meet pussy.  Sighs and coos. Arches, moans, more, time stands still.

Legs spread, draped over shoulders as lips touch, eyes meet and love is made.

French bistro lunch.  Worlds meet. Time fades. Orgasms, loud, will they hear next door?, touching, more touching, touching for hours, Greek dinner, mouth in a perfect O , part “oh” part gasp, part grunt; hours and hours of continuous orgasms, insatiability, begging, hand around slender neck, kneeling on the edge of the bed hands held behind her back, cock thrusting, watching reflection in picture over the bed, cupping pussy, fingers deep, hand so deep, gagging on cock, coma, eyes rolled back, wanting more, nodding yes, too weak to talk but still wanting more …

I will leave you with this scene. It was our last time in bed together, from mid morning to early afternoon.

“Baby, are you alright?”

She lay there. On her back, eyes wide, chin drooping. About 30 seconds later, her face turned to me and she softly whispered …

“What Baby? What did you say?”

At that exact moment, I knew she would never forget me. Even should she never remember the state her mind was in half a minute before, I knew she would never forget this. Though her cognizant mind may have been absent for a tiny block of time, her subconscious had totally absorbed all that was happening and had happened. Her total being was caught up in the sensations she had been experiencing for the past 3 1/2 hours. Her pleasure zones were close to overloading. They had even now overwhelmed her state of consciousness.

I have been with many women. And most loved sex. Many craved a lot of sex. But Cassandra is different. Very different. What exactly does “sexually insatiable” mean anyway? I now understand. Now I have seen it. Over 3 days we had several multi-hour sessions in bed. With my cock, with my mouth, with my hand, with my fingers, with my touch, with my voice, with her vibrator she orgasmed above me, beside me, and under me. I watched her ever so closely, her beautiful face contorting. I pressed closely as she writhed and arched, felt her body as she first shuddered, then shook, then quaked as the outbound energy roar surged through her entire body. Then the gush. Only to leave her whimpering and utterly spent.

For a few seconds only … as the force regathered and began its rush to another climax. This to be repeated for hours, the onslaught broken only by a few minutes of tender after care. My whispers, my touch, my hand cupping her tender pussy until I start with my fingers again.

“Can you cum again for me, Baby?”

Her eyelids heavy, she has strength only to nod slightly. And the tide rolls in, the waves begin to crash from within her again. . . and another hour of pleasuring begins…

“OHHHHH … OHHhhh … Ohhhhh … ohhhhh.”