The Glory of Sex

He stands before me in the kitchen. I know what he wants. He is tall, much taller than me. Broad shouldered, muscled, defined and solid. He fills his navy suit well. A large man. Thick black hair, flecked with grey, and a full beard. He is in his mid 40s. He has come home from the office early, knowing that I would be here. I know what he wants; I long for what he wants. And as he takes my hand and leads me up the stairs, I shiver in excited anticipation of the love we will be making. I am 20 years old, and much smaller than him. When I met him, I was inexperienced. But not now, oh no, not after the months of loving that he has taken me through. Not now.

He sits on the bed, smiles at me, and loosens his tie. I stand in front of him. He grasps me to him, pulling me in between his massive thighs, and we kiss. His mouth is searching, forceful, penetrating. He runs his hands down my back to my buttocks, pulls me against him. His hand slips round my hip to my groin, and he slips it between my legs, stroking and touching at me. The feeling is almost too much, and I whimper into his mouth as he feels me. His hands open my legs, and I throw back my head, gasping at the pleasure as he strokes my thighs. I want him badly!

I undo the buttons of my blouse, and let it fall to the floor. I wear no brassiere—there is no need. My breasts are aching, ready for his touch. He encompasses them in his large hands, covering them, and begins a circular motion, caressing them until the nipples stand hard and proud. He leans forward, and takes one of them into his mouth, rolling the breast in his mouth, tonguing the nipple, brushing his beard across the sensitive flesh. I whimper once more, and push against him, clasping his head and groaning. He murmurs against my breast as he suckles me like a baby, and I pull his head closer to me, trying to get it as close as possible. He pulls as much of my aching bosom into his mouth as he possibly can, and I almost weep from the pleasure.

Still tasting of my breast, he slides off his jacket, and loosens his tie until it falls open around his wide shoulders. He reaches for my skirt, and pulls on it. I want to help him, but I cannot, the aching need within me is too great and I cannot move in case my breast should escape from his mouth. My skirt falls to the floor, and he puts three fingers to my groin, my bush. Slowly, he strokes my pubic hair, slowly, caressing the soft down between my legs. He takes three of his fingers and slides them oh so slowly into me, inch by glorious inch. He pushes his fingers into me, stroking me, making me open to him. I am still standing, but I open my legs, allowing him access to my body. I am giving of myself to him. I feel the heady pull deep inside my womb. I need more of him.

He stops, and I move to undress him. I open his shirt across his chest. He is fabulous—the broad expanse of his chest is covered in thickly curled black hair, flecked with grey as his hair and beard are. I rub my hands across his chest, twirling my fingers in the hair. I pull off the shirt, and undo the buckle on his slacks. He stands, and I open his pants, sliding the zipper over the bulge with difficulty. The slacks are drawn down his legs. Like I, he wears no underwear, showing me his proud jutting organ. I touch it, almost hesitantly, even though I have felt it many times. His chest hair grows thick across his stomach, and is bushed densely around his balls. As I stroke his manhood, I notice that he is quivering. I know how wants me, as I want him.

We fall across the bed, laughing, caressing, touching each other, kissing each other deeply. He drags his hand across my groin, feeling my hair, as I touch him and stroke his thick cock in my hands. Kissing me, he squeezes my breasts, licking me on the neck as he does. Then he begins to slide down my body with his tongue, brushing his thick beard across my breasts, teasing the nipples with the hair. He travels down across my stomach, tickling my navel, and ends between my legs. He licks the lips to my cunt, sending tingles up my spine, a nervous feeling. He has done this to me many times before, but each time it feels as if it is new, as if I have never felt it before. He begins to slowly lick me, like a cat, and then pushes his tongue into my body. I twist and turn on the bed, crying out in sheer ecstasy, and he grabs my legs, holding me still though I beg him to let me go. He does not listen, and continues to push his tongue into my vagina, quickly, slowly, licking me, flattening his tongue against me and tasting me. I hump his face, pushing myself off the bed, squealing at him to stop, to please don’t stop, to help me oh god please help me!!! I orgasm, and it is shattering, as I collapse back down onto the bed, almost unable to move.

Moving quickly, he looms above me on the bed, opening my legs, though I had no thought of resisting him. Kneeling between my out flung legs, he leans forward slightly. I feel his need rubbing against me, stroking me. He is teasing me with his cock, stroking my cunt. Slowly (everything he does to me is done slowly, to torment me) he begins to push his cock into me. His penis—so long and so rock like—is huge, huge within my body, and I do not know if I will ever be able to take him all in. He pushes himself in deep, inches his cock back once, and them thrusts in again. He begins a slow pushing and thrusting momentum, leaning himself into me. I open my legs as wide as I can to allow him the deepest entry. Because I am so small, and he is so large, his broad chest is rubbing against my face. I turn it to the side and feel his tickly, wiry chest hair against my cheek. I look up at him—his face is contorted in pleasure, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. I find one of his nipples buried in the hair, and I lick it and quickly nip at it with my teeth. I hear a gasp of shocked delight, and he begins to push harder against me. I am trapped beneath him, but I have no longing to escape, no, never. His massive thighs keep my legs apart, and he is deep within me. Even though I have opened my legs as much as possible, he still wants more. He reaches down, grabs my thighs, and pushes them open, holding them as far apart as the can get. I am open to him as never before, and it feels like nothing else. I am wracked with pleasure.

He begins to deepen his thrusts even more, plunging into me, and I feel myself begin to twitch deep down inside. I start to thrash, to push myself up to him, and the orgasm hits my body. An immense wrenching pull inside. I cannot help it—I have to cry out and push up at him, crying out, as I contract around him. My legs are squeezing against his grasp as he holds me open still, furiously pushing his cock into my cunt. Then he comes, his hot semen shooting into me, groaning his pleasure, shouting out hoarsely against my neck, grunting and keening furiously against me.

My cries echo his, and they join as he releases my legs, allowing me to grip his massive thighs with my own. He takes hold of my buttocks, one in each hand, and pulls my groin to his, in an attempt to meld us together it seems. He leans against me, the thrusting lessening now, but he still wriggles, and pushes against me, trying desperately to fill me with whatever seed he has left.

He collapses onto my sweat-soaked body, curling his arms around me. His weight should be crushing me, but it is not. I throw my arms around his back, his sweat slicked and muscled back, and I grip him tightly with my thighs. My heels dig into his buttocks. We lay there, trying to regain out breath. To move would mean he would have to remove himself from my body, and he does not wish to do that. We lie there, coming down from pleasure, caressing each other, fulfilled in our love.