A Plausible Analogy

January 23rd

The drive that late afternoon seemed without end, almost to the point of boredom, severing the city’s center in heavy, plodding, end-of-workweek traffic, following trolley tracks, and sliding over ancient cobblestoned corners. We managed eventually to break out of the relentless snarl of trucks and taxis and spotted the blue signs to the super highway heading west. Then finally, three unobstructed lanes appeared that invited our high speed passage. She sat quietly through most of it. Now we were talking and laughing together, our spirits brightened with thoughts of the quiet seclusion we would share this evening. A persistent image of my middle finger slipping in and out of her little pussy kept crossing my mind, pleasantly interrupting my train of thought.

North now, through flat, open (and well fertilized!) farmland, the last of the sun touched its fire to the occasional church domes, then darkness. I stopped the car to remove the covers from the driving lights. She came out into the chilled air, shadows joined in the headlight beams, and I held her close and whispered my intentions (a smile from her lips as her hand slipped down to give my crotch a squeeze). The road now absent of all but the local traffic, we swept through the last tiny villages, lights throwing their illumination across our path. Soon, a left turn onto a bridge that carried us under an ancient gate and along narrow streets to a gilded sign announcing our hotel.

Taking our overnight bags from the boot, we ran as one into the chilling air and opened the great door to a rush of warmth and wonderful smells from a distant kitchen. We were met instantly by a large woman who had seen one too many travelers in her time. Spending only moments with the formalities of registration and surrendering our passports, the housekeeper provided us with a room and bath for the night, and, yes, dinner was being served. Up the carpeted stairs and along a hallway in semi-darkness we found our room; a double-locked entrance door opened to plush carpeting, antique wardrobes and a high ceiling that overlooked a large bed with carved headboard.

As I closed and locked the door and set my bag down, my excitement for the hours ahead could hardly be contained. She was occupied with arranging the contents of her night bag on the dresser top. I set my coat over a chair, then stepped behind her and removed the hooded cape from her shoulders, laying it aside (a hint of her self-consciousness realizing she’d forgotten). She straightened with my hands around her front warming themselves in the folds of her sweater and curve of her stomach. I leaned forward to kiss the lips she turned to offer me (the sound of someone turning a key in the lock next door). Her hands took mine and brought them upward to her breasts. Standing behind her still, I squeezed and they pressed outward; through the fabric of her bra I felt her fat little nipples harden.

Tension from the evening’s drive disappeared as I massaged her flesh, and I felt the familiar hardening, pressing now against her tight bottom sheathed in form-fitting pants that so perfectly defined the separation of her jutting buttocks. She raised her arms and parted the length of silken hair that reached to her shoulders, and my lips closed on her exposed neck. Her whispers told me of how she’d longed all day to have me play with her breasts - “You always go straight for my butt or my puss and neglect my titties!” then in the same breath, “...shall we eat dinner soon? The restaurant must be near closing (she let a hand trail behind to grasp my swollen friend),...or do you think we can manage an appetizer first?”

Letting go, she turned in my arms and, in one motion, pulled the sweater over her head, mussing her hair, and held a pose for me, laced bra with flesh-colored cups that highlighted her familiar contours, the material barely restraining her womanhood. I don’t recall doing it myself - she must have taken the initiative - but I was soon without pants, my cock freed from jockeys, and she had me sitting at the bed’s edge (someone walked past in the hallway outside). Kneeling at my feet, she took the glans full in her mouth, bathing it with her tongue, little love bites, letting it out in the chilled air for a moment, then drawing its length in again, all the way to the back of her throat. With eyes opened and smiling up at me, she bathed me with her tongue before allowing her lips to bring sweet pressure all along its length.

My eyes meanwhile took in the vision of soft hair and slender back, a tiny ribbon that kept her bra in place, then lower, the cheeks of her noble ass that flared outward in pants now stretched to their limit. I touched her as a signal to wait (her lips nibbling at one of my sacs, tugging at the curled hairs there) and reached for a pillow to raise myself - the less for her to bend to suck me. Once adjusted, I lifted her head and fed my cock once more to her waiting mouth, her eyes smiling at me while she sucked, her tongue again tickling and coaxing its tip from inside her mouth, no doubt enjoying the taste of early cum. Not hurrying the foreplay (as had been her practice on occasion), she breathed hot air to fire the tip, then gently used her teeth to keep me from full discharge. My hands held her head, softest strands of hair, her ears aglow - part passion and part sweet embarrassment - and I began a gentle forward and back motion as she took me in and out, lips tightening around the head to keep it captive.

As our movement increased, her fingers played as she cupped my balls, even moving lower to wet the sacs with her tongue (strands of her auburn hair matted to my impatient cock), once even letting her tongue linger in the tight crease below. Then, “I’ve got to stop and catch my breath....” I was at this point still very hard - and quite wet, judging from the presence of a small draft in the room, and for a minute I thought she wanted to have me cum in her mouth. She, meanwhile, was adjusting a bit of lace that had crept down to expose an enlarged nipple. My hands went to those wonderful tits, lifting and molding them to form an inviting cleavage. In an inspired moment, I pushed two fingers between her mounds and delighted in feeling the soft pressure close around them.

She was quick to read my thoughts. Staring at my fingers at play, “So, you’d like to fuck me in there would you?” With a radiant smile, “...but it won’t work, not without a bit of cream between them.” (And I wondered to myself how many cocks she’d taken between her breasts before this....)

And so began a bit of comedy; in the midst of this sweet agony, my erection ready to explode, she stood up and went in search of some lubricant to moisten her breasts. She held up a small item from the dresser top, “Toothpaste?...no, I don’t think so.” I got up to help, and, while she rummaged through her night case, I undid the little clasp and lifted the straps from her shoulders. Not yet done, my thumbs slipped into her waistband and pushed her pants down to expose her sheer panties. Excited now, I knelt to help her out of the pants, nuzzling against a silky buttock and leaving a wet kiss there.

“I’ve got it...just the thing!” as she showed me the little bottle of sun screen. “Invention always conquers in time of need,...something like that.”

Giggling now, she grasped my rod and led me back to the bedside. I tossed her the pillow to kneel on - better to position herself - and this time her nippled beauties rested on my thighs. Together, we filled our palms with the lotion and bathed her titties with oil until they shown the reflections of the bedside lamp. Soft, natural, perfectly formed globes. I was delirious with the thought of having her this way, the gentle pressure surrounding, teasing my cock. She took me in her mouth again for a moment of sucking, then, as though this was practiced lovemaking, she placed its length in the oil-sweetened cleavage. I almost came, but she grasped me with tightened fingers until I regained control. Flattened palms pressed her titties together to form a delicious passage between, as I nudged its tip into the fold until the glans popped into sight (seeing this, she flushed a bright scarlet and smiled up at me). Our hands joined and kneaded her flesh around my shaft until only the bobbing tip was visible.

I wanted so much to initiate the tit fucking, but we were both too confined to make that possible. Instead, she lifted her breasts along its length, up and down, while I tried with little success to thrust and withdraw. We discovered a most satisfying rhythm, although I knew the combined eroticism of sight and touch wouldn’t allow this pleasure to last for very long. She was quickly becoming captive to this new way, her hand working furiously inside her panties while I kept her swelled breasts in motion. Realizing my fountain was near erupting, my thumbs pressed her nips inward, and I felt joyful release as pearled cum filling her crease. Her lower half was suddenly alive with motion; my fingers massaging her breasts and neck until she came. She sat back to catch her breath, and I marveled at her lovely pose of gleaming breasts and a finger or two still at work inside her pussy.

I brought her closer again, and, with spent cock in hand, I anointed her outspoken nipples with the last of it. And she, playful as ever, put a fingertip of cum to her lips and made a show of enjoying my taste.

We kissed, our tongues exploring, then joked about the pair we made: she with sticky breasts and sodden panties and me still half dressed and sporting a rather wilted cock. I said something about giving her a proper fucking in bed, assuring her I could be ready for her, but she interrupted with, “...much rather wait until after we’ve eaten. I’m starved,.... besides, I managed an orgasm or two while you were between my tits (she confided once before that her nipples were ultra-sensitive).” So we set about gathering our clothing and readying ourselves for a wash-up and change of clothes.

I stopped to watch her bend to step out of her panties before she adjourned to the bathroom for a moment’s privacy. Soon, she beckoned me in to share the washclothes, fragrant soap and towels piled near the vanity sink. I finished first and used another to wipe the cum from strands of her lovely auburn hair. Another smile, a tongued kiss, flattening of soapy breasts against my chest, her hands busily grasping my buttocks, while my fingers caressed her lower back and tiny cleft above her ass cheeks (was she willing to forego dinner...?). But a slap from her hand below, and we were soon dressed again and finding our way downstairs to the dining room.

No doubt, the meal was yet another part of our sexual holiday, and we made every effort to savor the tastes and smells in that context. Over and over we celebrated our luck at reserving a room at this charming hotel with its restaurant...and the wine. The grapes, we were told were grown on the nearby hillside. I offered a toast to the villagers, the creators of this wine, and to her, ending with something about the exquisite sensation of cumming between her breasts.

We were the last two patrons to leave the room - even the group of card-playing locals at the large corner table had departed awhile ago - and the innkeeper asked us only to turn off the lights before turning in. The wine had gotten to her, and she leaned on me as we found our doorway. “God, but I want you inside of me,” was all she said as I fumbled with the door lock, then caught a glimpse of her waving arms and bending to remove her clothes (giggling again). I said something about vowing not to awaken any of the other guests with our lovemaking, and she answered with, “Well then I guess your fucking me in the arse is out for tonight (hysterical laughter)!” Falling backwards onto the bed, her thighs opened to show me her wet little pussy.

Nearly free of my own clothes, I paused before pressing by cock inside her. I recall how she raised her knees to her breasts, her hands grasping to hold herself in position and her fingers opening her cunt lips for my entrance. We moved quietly at first, then more violently as the old bed received a hearty workout. After all, the evening had been one of foreplay, and this fucking was for us a final consummation. Soft flesh of her bent legs under me, we kissed, and her tongue matched the rhythm of our lower bodies. I thrust again and again, she opened herself to take me deeper, and we came in one glorious thrunderburst as I felt my release go on endlessly inside her. She shook from the tremors of her own climaxing, sweet vagina refusing to release my shaft. Only when I suggested we get under the covers did we separate long enough for her to find her panties and, holding them against her pussy, she ran to the bathroom to wash herself.

A little later, we talked some, touching each other, quietly laughing together, and found ourselves drifting off to sleep. I awakened after what must have been only an hour or two of rest, unwilling to allow the busy events of the day before to dampen my desire to fuck her again. A kiss to her ear, eyes opening, and a smile that signaled no inhibitions this night. Playfully I reversed myself along her side and tunneled under the covers until I found her mons and its furry top. She had taken hold of my cock at the other end of the bed, warm breath only inches from its tip. I pried open her thighs, nibbling the folds of wet flesh and little pubic hairs, her scent almost hypnotic. Tugging at her pebble clit with my mouth, I tasted her musk (she shifted her body suddenly), then buried my tongue and lips deep inside her.....

And next I recall, I was awake again. A blur...time?...distant sounds in the outer hallway, footsteps from the room above, sunlight coming from somewhere...then the sweet scent of her body near me. I rolled out of bed and looked back at the tangled covers only partly covering her body, here and there. She slept, and I was instantly tempted to awaken her; instead, I stood near like the casual voyeur. The classic reclining pose, head turned away with strands of glistening hair across her pillow, arms thrown outward, her torso curved with one breast and flattened nipple exposed, twists of bedsheet tangled around her exposing her labia, and a gathering of blanket under her womanly ass, slightly elevated, her long tanned legs extending to the bed’s edge.

I quickly found the camera with 50mm lens and strobe in the wardrobe and prepared the settings. Moving now to the bedside and careful that the strobe did not disturb her sleep, I photographed her in all her youthful, sensual beauty. Her pose was one that could only be the result of dreams brought on by ravishing sexual activity. (These photographs are my favorites; for whatever reason, I have never shared them with her.) Setting camera aside, I got in beside her, warming myself with her body heat, and quickly becoming delirious with thoughts of continuing what sleep had so rudely interrupted the night before.

January 24th

She sat beaming, sleepy eyes unwavering, a soft reddish glow on her cheeks, lips moist from the tea she sipped. My head felt a bit fogged from last night’s wine and the lovemaking that followed. My tongue found a trace of her love scent on my upper lip, and I savored the taste. She laughingly imitated the gesture, and I reached across our breakfast table and kissed her full on the lips; her tongue surrendered to me, then, “Last night’s fucking was delicious...and this morning’s awakening with your tongue inside me was like a dream fulfilled. We must get away like this again....” Excusing herself for a last visit to the Ladies, I became entranced with the sway of her bottom highlighted by the two faded spots on the cheeks of her jeans (she knew I was watching her little show, and she flashed me a smile before disappearing through the door.)

The grandfather seated behind the front desk gave me some friendly directions to the Rally stop, then wished us well and added sincere wishes that he’d be seeing us again. I noticed he allowed his eyes to become well-acquainted with her physical attractions as he spoke. With bags and photo equipment stored in the trunk, I pulled around to the hotel’s front entrance where she was waiting for me. All in fun, I continued to drive ahead while watching her reaction in the mirror. Her expression told me she could play at this game, too, and she started to walk in the opposite direction. She was enjoying every bit of this, as I reversed and pulled along side her (only a moment’s hesitation with her head cocked and taking the pose of someone undecided...then a broad smile as she opened the car door and slid in beside me).

“What would you have done had I continued on?” I wanted to know.

“Oh, I’d have found someone hereabouts who’d enjoy the company of a young photo model for the day....or perhaps one of the drivers passing through today looking to give his navigator the boot! What a marvelous time we’d have, then....all the way to Monte Carlo!”

I couldn’t resist, “Right, the lucky devil wouldn’t get two kilometers from here before you’d have talked him out of the running and into the nearest hotel.”

We clowned around with each other like that until, with raised sunglasses and quite serious eyes, she told me how she’d remember last night forever, then “...and we’ve not explored all the possibilities yet, have we?”

I’d expected a considerable crowd gathered, yet we had no trouble finding a parking space on the access road. Walking to the official check point, it became clear that a great number of people had turned out, perhaps on foot, and more were on their way. The scene was one of organized anxiety; officials with colorful armbands were pacing about with perhaps nothing better to do than look important, uniformed women with Red Cross patches were heating two kettles of what looked like rich hot chocolate over portable stoves. Boxes of chocolate bars were stacked on a folding table near the cordoned-off area that would be the drive-through point. A control clock mounted on a board beside the gate was undergoing final synchronization, an official with cell phone was counting down the time hack, and above the low chattering of the spectators, camera advances and stop watch checks could be heard.

I could sense her excitement grow as the time passed. She was wearing a heavy sweater around her shoulders, and her cheeks showed the same rosy coloring as when I first put my cock between her shapely breasts the evening before. Even with the morning sun, the air had a sharp January chill. Maybe by the afternoon it would warm...by then the two of us would be headed south again, away from this charming town and back to more mundane surroundings.

By this stage of the event, the front runners should have been spaced apart by several minutes. We waited, walked a little, then waited some more. Ten minutes after the expected first arrival, a car horn was heard from a distance, the crowd noise rose in unison, and the mud-streaked front of a Lancia worked its way through the eager spectators. She stood beside me, waiting calmly, then jumping up to see the team car as an official opened the barrier gate. The driver climbed out, stretched himself and surrendered his place card for the time stamp. The crowd nearest him roared with laughter when he took a drink of the complimentary cocoa, then curled his lips and spit it out. She gave an excited account of the goings on, while I took it all in with the 35mm. The driver’s teammate remained in the car, studying his maps with great concentration and probably thinking about the next 100 or so kilometers. The car - a French entry - had begun in Stockholm, and I wondered aloud why it had made such a long jaunt north to compete when Cherbourg seemed a far better start point for a French team.