This is a true account of events that occurred a few years ago when I was dating Mark; a wonderful man that I'd met at a mutual friend's wedding in Sydney.
When we met I was twenty-four, a single girl from Adelaide. I had recently graduated from University and was in my first year of teaching. Mark was thirty-two, tall, handsome, well educated, intelligent, witty and well connected. He was an architect - and rich. Unbelievably he was single and available.
He was almost too good to be true and everything my father would have wanted for his only daughter. In fact he may have been "the one" for me, but nature intervened and I realised it could never be.
This is a true story, only Mark is not his real name. When he reads the story I am sure he will know who he is. I hope he doesn't think too badly of me.
When you have read "For Mark" please vote and leave your comments on Literotica. I appreciate you letting me know what you think of my stories - even if you don't like them.
Ingenue
xx
Through the foggy haze of sleep I felt the sheet slip from my shoulders and slide down over my bare body, coming to rest across the backs of my thighs just below on my firm, tight butt.
The caress of the cool night air on my naked flesh was delightful, but I was mildly annoyed that, as usual, Mark was hogging all the bedclothes.
"Mark!" I hissed softly in sleepy protest.
He stirred briefly, but the only response was the sound of steady, rhythmical breathing coming from his side of the bed.
I opened my eyes and in the soft glow of the full moon saw him lying on his back, sound asleep.
Behind me the bedroom window of our apartment was open and the warm tropical breeze stirred the curtains casting shadows on the opposite wall, the images resembling lovers performing some erotic, sensuous ritual.
Mark hadn't actually stolen the bedclothes; rather, in his sleep he had pushed them to the end of the bed leaving him uncovered and me with the sheet just below my waist. Like me he was naked.
I watched him as he slept, taking the opportunity to admire his naked body. He was one hundred ninety three centimetres tall, weighed around one hundred and ten kilograms and had the build of an elite athlete. Through his mid to late twenties he had represented Victoria at the National Rowing Championships, only just missing out on a place in our Olympic Team for the games in Sydney in 2000. Even now at thirty-two he still rowed competitively, although not at the elite level. He trained regularly and worked out in the gym and it showed. He was lean; there was hardly an ounce of fat on him. He was exactly how he appeared, strong, muscular and very fit.
Compared to him I am tiny, although for a woman I'm above average height. I'm one hundred and sixty eight centimetres tall, weigh fifty-two kilograms and next to him my slim body looked fragile and almost childlike. Not that I minded, in fact it was something that appealed to me and I enjoyed it when he was by my side. When he took me in his arms and held me, his wide shoulders, broad chest and strong arms totally engulfed me and made me feel safe and secure. It was a nice feeling and one that I will never forget.
As he slept, his chest rose and fell and his hard, flat stomach seemed to ripple with each breath. Lying flat against his stomach was his uncircumcised penis. Even soft and limp it was quite big. He had recently allowed me to shave his pubic hair to match my own bald pussy, and it made his cock and balls appear even larger and more prominent.
The dull ache between my legs reminded me of how only an hour or so earlier that same cock had been hard and erect and buried deep inside me. Erect it was big - not exactly huge, but very thick, and long enough to stretch and fill me completely. It was a nice feeling having him inside me, pounding my cunt.
Fucking him was good. I loved the way he reacted when I contracted the muscles in my vagina, squeezing him - and when he came, I especially liked that. His body would tense and he would stop breathing. In the instant before he ejaculated, I swear I could feel his cock swell inside me - maybe it was just my imagination, but I would squeeze again, hard, as hard as I could. Then he would withdraw for the final time - I could tell it was the final time, as he would ram his cock deep into my cunt then let out a roar like a wounded lion and fill me with his cum. I could feel it spurting into me, drenching me, flooding me, filling me and overflowing. Afterwards I hold him and wait. Wait while his pounding heart slowed, his ragged breathing returned to something closer to normal and I felt his penis begin to shrink inside me. Oh yes I did like that.
With these pleasant thoughts I reached down and grabbed the edge of the sheet, pulled it over my back, up to my shoulders and settled down to go back to sleep.
As I drifted towards unconsciousness I thought back to the time we first met. It had been about six months before in Sydney at David and Fiona's wedding. We were the only two singles there and at the reception he had swept me off my feet, and we'd been dating ever since.
Mark and David had been friends since they were children living next door to each other in South Toorak, one of Melbourne's more affluent suburbs, and I had met David later when he'd moved to Adelaide to study Law at University.
After graduating, David had gone to live in Sydney to work with a law firm in the city where he met Fiona who was a graphic designer. After a short courtship they had become engaged, and just a few months later surprised us all by getting married.
The wedding was beautiful. There were only about thirty guests, but what it lacked in size it made up for in style. It was in January and the day was warm and sunny, the setting in a private garden at Potts Point was perfect and the bride was beautiful. Fiona had chosen a simple, white, sleeveless dress that accentuated her slim figure and highlighted her golden tan and thick shoulder-length blonde hair. It was like the scene out of a movie, and after the ceremony the fantasy continued as all the guests were taken by limousine to the Sydney Harbour for a twilight cruise.
As we boarded the boat we were served French Champagne in chilled glasses that were coated on the outside with frosty condensation. Occasionally, tiny droplets formed and ran down the side of the glass, leaving a clear streak then running down the stem and across the base before falling with a gentle splash to the deck.
As we all chatted and sipped our champagne, the bride and groom were away having photographs taken on the steps of the Sydney Opera House, at The Rocks and underneath Sydney Harbour Bridge. The sun was low in the western sky that was starting to take on an orange hue, a prelude to setting of the sun and made a perfect setting. I've seen the photos since, and they are truly the most gorgeous wedding photos I have ever seen.
I was the out-of-town girl at the wedding, the only one from Adelaide and, I thought, the only one there without a partner. As far as I knew everyone else was a Sydney friend of David and Fiona.
To keep it simple and to save people the expense of travelling long distances, they had decided to get married in Sydney and were going to repeat the ceremony and have another celebration the following week in Melbourne, where both their families and most of David's friends lived.
As I stood making small talk with a group of guests, I noticed a guy standing on his own by the railing at the opposite side of the boat. I hadn't seen him at the wedding, but he must have been there somewhere. I don't know how I could have missed him because he was very striking, tall, well built and handsome.
He was holding a glass of wine that he sipped occasionally and he was looking at me. He caught my eye and held my gaze. He smiled, raised his glass in silent greeting before taking another sip, and then he turned away to lean on the rail, apparently gazing out over the shimmering water of Australia's most famous and beautiful harbour.