This is a work of fiction. Ultimately I wrote this story for myself, my own pleasure.
The quick story is an emotional tragedy. You have been warned.
This is the very first story I have ever written. I would appreciate constructive feedback. If you are abusive in tone or language, I WILL delete your abuse. Critique the work like an adult and I will pay attention like an adult.
*
She lies on her side, sleeping soundly. The ebb and flow of her breathing is a match to the rise and fall of her torso. Her features are partly hidden by thick raven black hair; usually loose and shoulder length; now twisted and gnarled with the movements of sleep.
The light teal miniskirt dress is still on her, yet missing little parts, testament to our delight. One thin shoulder line hangs loosely on her upper biceps, the other peeks broken from beneath her side.
I can't help myself and place my hand on that shoulder, sliding my fingers slowly along the luscious brown skin. I am amused, or just giddy with joy, and horny at the same time. I feel my cock itching, and pulsing and enlarging as little fantasies play and disappear in my mind's eye.
Camille is not the perfect looking woman, but it's those slight flaws which make her so much more real. She has a small compact body, with lovely round breasts and a face sculpted of light coco and angels. She's maybe ten to twenty pounds overweight, which has caused her butt cheeks to become quite rotund. I gorge myself in the feeling of such fullness by trailing my full palm and spread fingers along one of those butt cheeks. I play with the possibility of doing more to the puckered labia trapped between her rested legs. She begins to stir, rubbing her white stocked feet together. The teal dress, bunched up around her middle, adds a crease here and looses a crease there.
I lean forward and rest my body behind her, my cock trapped by her lower back, my chest and chin tickled by those raven strands. She doesn't smell as clean as she would considering the fact we fell asleep after hours of exertion, but her smell is raw and vibrant, and musky with sweat. "You're gorgeous" I say to her, feeling my chin move against the hairs of her scalp.
I feel her then, her hand, as she places it on my own side and trails her fingers slowly along the length of it. I wonder how long she's been awake and my cock twitches between us. "You feel nice," she murmurs back and finally turns her chocolate eyes to me over her shoulder. She continues turning in my sudden embrace to return it in kind. My heart is beating loud and heavy and I can feel the palpitations of her own as her nipples press against me. Her teal dress catches my penis and twists it in sudden pain.
"Ow!" I push a way a little bit and it springs free with a slap against my navel. She laughs and giggles softly even as her hands cup my face and she gazes at me with those large eyes.
"This is wrong, Rober," she whispers even as we unconsciously begin to position ourselves for what we want to do. What we ache to do.
"I know..." A flash of guilt is overcome by a strong feeling of desire.
Somehow I find myself above her, that annoying dress hiding one breast and her abdomen. I kiss her, deeply and lovingly. She tastes of salt and saliva and sex, and cum. Her legs have parted below me and I find my cock resting perfectly along puffed lips. I can feel them moistening already, sticky, and hot. "I need you." I say to her, before kissing her again. One dainty hand holds my head to hers while she probes my mouth. She is as passionate and hungry for me as I am for her. She rotates her hips below me smearing my shaft and testicles with her lubricant. Her knees rise to each side of me, inviting, offering her puffy sex to me. One of her stocked feet slides up and down the back of my leg.
Then my cock catches that small dip below her clitoris. I had been dry humping her and I hadn't even noticed it. It gets stuck there for that infinitesimal second, as if deciding, and then follows gravity down into her vagina. The warmth of her body envelops my member as I sink it in. Our pubic hairs intermix wetly. Her lubricant gets smeared right down to the base of my cock, and her labia lips get firmly squashed against me with that fleshy pole firmly parting them.
Even having done this before, a feeling of baseless insecurity comes into my soul, "Cam if you don't want to...." She shushes me with a small kiss. Then smiles that light bringing smile of hers, and kisses me more slowly. She traps me within her by locking her sensuous legs behind my back. "Shut up.. Rober" she laughs softly against my cheek.
We begin to move against each other in almost hesitant lurches, as if we where first timers who had never loved before. There is something different about it this time. Our loving is more intense, more needful and ragged, and animalistic. We calm into a steady sync which sends such shivers of pleasure through me, I can't help groan like a schoolboy.
The heat coming from Camille is intense, as if she were a bonfire. I use my arms to take some of my weight off her and watch her unguarded expressions. She's biting her lower lip, eyes closed, head tilted back as our collisions ripple through her. The bed below squeaks and trembles. That one loose breast jingles and bounces invitingly. I wrap my mouth around the nipple, trying to keep a coherent pace. I'm spearing her with the deft intensity of a matador. The nipple hardens into hard rubber while I roll the nub with my tongue and her gasped moans proclaim her ardent approval. The return thrusts of her hips loose coherency and her legs shudder raggedly around me.
My cock finds itself sloshing into Camille's cunt as her first orgasm hits and her juices flow freely around my shaft. The pleasure intensifies. Iit all becomes so much slicker. I hold on to myself and think of unpleasant things just to make myself last a little longer. But those darn sloshing sounds, the image of my cock sliding in and out of her caramel and pink labia, Camille's hotness, her little plaints in Spanish, as if she were begging forgiveness for this horrible sin.... I can't stop. It drives me up into the stratosphere.
I groan and shudder short of a convulsion, yet I hold on and try to make it last a little longer. Then she murmurs, hotly, wetly, with such lust and passion as to make my own lust a paltry accident, "Mi amor, mi amor... "
My love, my love.
