Blessed Is the Fruit of Thy Womb

We'd been drinking. Well really, what do you expect? I was sitting at home looking directly into the wide, doe-like eyes of the loveliest little filly you ever laid eyes on, so naturally the chance of any suave erudition or seductive wit on my part was directly comparable to the amount of whiskey in my belly. Of course, excess in the fiery liquor might well have proved equally disadvantageous in my attempts to court the charming girl as the fears and anxieties which swirl and multiply in a sober mind; but in this particular case the prospect of my becoming right royally drunk and ruining my chances with the girl were averted, for Mary herself, for that was her name, partook herself of the whiskey, quite liberally for her sex, so that I myself only drank so much as to fill my veins with fire; my cheeks were red, not yet green.

There was a flush in Mary's face too, as she raised a glass to her divine lips, which formed a seductive smile around the rim. Her eyes fixed me intently; I could not look away. I had always hated that about the softer sex, how their eyes seemed to pierce you to your very core, uncovering your true intentions, which are, let is face it, seldom wholly honourable in man's congress with woman. But there was no malice in her gaze. I grew hazy and faint, lost in the contemplation of her heavenly face. A nymph she seemed to a poor wretch like me, a nymph with long, disheveled hair, dancing by the sea to a lilting melody, unheard since the golden days of Sappho...

She is small, just shy of five feet, and her body is slim and supple, moulded for gentlemen's delight. She is like purest marble, but soft to the touch, pulsing with vitality. Smooth slender limbs lend her a poised elegance that belies her height; those legs, sculpted from ivory, are long and languid in crimson high-heels; they were made to dance with a natural grace. Her arms encircle me in a blissful embrace and I feel the curve of her sweeping hips and arched back. Her breasts press against me with perky softness, the ivory globes swelling with each sharp intake of breath. Small and responsive to the touch, each can be cupped snugly in an outspread hand, as they are only partially veiled by the gauzy fabric of her blouse. Her trembling bosom brushes my chest as I press her lithe form to mine, inhaling the headiness of her scent. She is truly a goddess.

I gaze transfixed into her face and feel the warmth of her breath which escapes from pouting, petulant lips like the petals of a blooming red rose, parted slightly to reveal the glimmer of pearly teeth. That mouth I have seen nothing to equal on the face of the earth. To a man with the least fire in his heart that subtle curve in the middle of her red top lip is exquisite in its evocation of innocence coexisting with a burgeoning sexuality. Indeed her face seems to epitomize the whole of her sex: blooming cheeks blushing with the natural pinkness of her youth; magnolia-white skin, flawlessly smooth; a perky nose that alludes still to the naivety of youth; but her eyes speak of a fully-formed woman.

Her face is still flushed with sleep, and her eyelids hang heavy over their pupils, veiled with long black lashes. The brimfulness of her nature breathes from her, and as she opens her dark, exquisite eyes I give an involuntary gasp. They are slightly too large for her small, delicate face, unfurnished with make-up and mascara, for she is still fresh from sleep; a friendly warmth emanates from their hazel depths, dilated with the latent intensity of her passion. She stretches one long, naked arm high above the satin delicacy of her ruffled hair, and the dark brown curls dance as she lolls her angelic head. I lean in eagerly and enclose the flower of her mouth in a gentle kiss...

I recalled the evening's events, even as I lay entwined in Mary's soft, silken embrace, with a sense of warm fulfillment. She had lain tentatively on the bed at first, as I deftly unbuttoned her blouse to reveal breasts like little golden apples, which I licked and sucked wantonly. Before she knew it I had extricated her from her floral skirts and lacy white panties, and she lay naked as the day before my admiring eyes, her lovely long legs closed in compulsive modesty so that the satin-smooth flesh of her womanly thighs touched, outlining the v-shaped patch of soft, silky flaxen curls that adorned her plump Venus mound. It was just like the hair on the billowing crown of her gorgeous head.

My member twitched instinctively at that particularly erotic observation as my reverie continued, recalling the satin-smooth touch of her gleaming body, perfect as the dream of a god. I had placed a hand under either thigh, soft as satin, and gently eased them apart to reveal her innermost charms: her pubis, the rich curls framing the flower of her sex, which opened wantonly for me; her outer lips, parted slightly, hinting enticingly at the darker rose within; and the little pink pea of her clit, winking at me from atop the pouting petals of her delightful cunny, which glistened with the fragrant nectar of her arousal. Despite this obvious evidence of the wanton passions that had seized her more fiercely than any lover, she put up a few brief protests for want of maiden shame, of which she had little after I had had my way with the darling girl. I for my part was blind with desire having unwrapped my present; I compulsively grasped Mary's lovely cunt, pushing my first two fingers into its growing slit, until they bumped against the symbol of her modesty, the rose-red hymen waiting to be torn.

I caressed her with a tenderness born of inexperience, and slowly she began to warm to my touch, new nipples flushed like ripe strawberries atop the ivory globes of a bosom in tumult, whose alternate fall and swell attested to the fiery passions taking hold of her.

Once I finally managed to cover my prize I fucked her squarely for a few minutes, several deep, abrupt thrusts, then emptied my boiling seed into her womb. She was thusly got with my child. Where either are now I know not.