My Bookkeeper Returns

(M/F Rom)

by licapeba

Copyright © 2010 by licapeba.  All rights reserved.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a sequel to "My Bookkeeper" (I devote considerable time and care to selecting my story titles!) and the experience of reading it may be enhanced by reading the other one first.

Michelle, our part-time bookkeeper, was due to return to work on our accounting system. I was feeling jittery.

The day before, she and I had a sudden and surprising romantic encounter in my office. After she had left, and overnight, I had become concerned about the after-effects of that impulsive event. She was a good bookkeeper. I didn't want to lose her through her own re-evaluation of what had happened. Nor did I want a change in her behavior to make working together difficult. Through morning ablutions and early emails I thought about how to discuss this with her, and was still unsettled as she arrived.

My worrying was wasted, though. Maybe it helped both of us past some awkwardness that one of our consultants was working in the offices when she arrived that morning, but Michelle was completely professional when she arrived, and throughout the day. There was no sign of resentment about what had happened the day before. There was also no fluttering of eyes, no mooning looks, no whispered intimacies... no obvious invitation of any kind to suggest that she thought we would repeat what we had done the day before.

She was more happy than I could remember seeing her, chatting very cheerfully with our consultant and me and laughing easily. In the afternoon after the consultant had left, she was perhaps a bit more friendly and casual than before, but completely professional as she finished our financial reports and walked through them with me. After we were done, she gave me a quick hug, wished me a good weekend, said she'd see me in a few months for our mid-year bookkeeping needs, and left.

A real pro. A grown-up. I thought of some of the other younger women who had complicated my life after intimacy. They had been far less appreciative of what I did for them in bed, and far more demanding of me afterwards, as though they thought that our intimacy gave them a claim of some kind. Even though I hadn't taken anything from Michelle in our encounter, I thought she was pretty great for not trying to make more of it.

In the months that followed, we exchanged emails a few times. Usually I'd start an exchange by asking a question about our accounting, but would slip in something friendly or fun too. She would reply in kind, again showing cleverness and a sense of humor that I had not noticed in years of knowing her. She also avoided turning these exchanges into anything suggestive or cloying. If I was at all uncomfortable with myself, I might have interpreted her lack of communication about what we had done as a lack of interest in a repeat performance. But I didn't, for some reason, and my respect for Michelle grew.

Months later, when she was due back for her usual mid-year updating and tidying of our books, I was out of the country. She came to our offices and did her work for several days, and I returned in the afternoon of the Friday she was finishing up. She told me she had a long list of things to talk to me about, but that didn't worry me.

Michelle had never gotten used to seeing how much money we spent running the business. Her other clients were presumably less successful or more frugal, but I and our handful of consultants burned through tens of thousands of dollars per month travelling, entertaining, training, and preparing and making presentations to groups of executives and senior managers at our clients. We were also forever buying newer and better devices and services to support our activities and make our work easier. Especially in that group, she didn't always understand what our expense receipts were for, and didn't always understand whether they were business or personal expenses.

"Looks like I'm in trouble again," I said with a smile as she came into my office with a thick file folder.

"No," she laughed, "but your expenses must have helped a lot in ending the recession. I need help figuring out what some of these things are for."

She settled into a chair on the other side of the desk and arranged her papers in front of us. We worked through a few dozen expense items quickly, clarifying what they were and what accounts they should be charged to.

"Now this one," she said, "is this what it looks like, almost nine thousand dollars for an espresso machine?! Is that a gift for a client? Who likes coffee that much?!"

"I do, Michelle. So do you. You didn't see it in the kitchen?"

"No! I've been bringing my own Starbucks, I didn't go in the kitchen."

"Ohhh, Michelle," I said, "I can teach you so much. Come with me."

Her eyes softened as she smiled, seeming to remember the last time I said that to her, and she pushed out of her chair to follow me into the kitchen. It was hard to miss the huge new commercial espresso machine there.

"We bit the bullet. I finally concluded that making coffee as good as the best coffee shops is easier using the same equipment they use. I'm going to make you a coffee and you'll stop questioning why I bought it. You'll also never - ever - want to drink a Starbucks coffee again. Do you want to try it?"

She giggled. "I'll try a nine thousand dollar coffee machine any day, but I do love my Starbucks!" 

While I busied myself with the exacting ritual of making two perfect double lattes, we chatted about my recent trip, her vacation, family... stuff. I carried the two drinks back into my office, where we resumed our positions across the desk from each other, and I slid her coffee across to her.

I watched her face carefully as she tasted it. She was first apparently startled. People are often surprised that coffee drinks can taste just as good as freshly-ground coffee smells. Then she looked contemplative as she tasted chocolate, and caramel, and a bit of fruit, flavors usually overwhelmed in typically-bad or badly-made coffee. She looked up at me as she sipped, eyes wide. It was at least thirty seconds before she slowly put down her cup in wonder.

"Ohhh Peter!" she said softly, "that is absolutely incredible. I think I've just really had coffee for the first time." She paused. "You do teach me wonderful things." Her eyes sparkled, and we looked at each other for a long moment. I was about to speak when she looked down and said, "OK, how do we handle this wonderful purchase? It's a personal expense, isn't it?"

"I don't think so Michelle. People buy coffee machines for their offices all the time. Some companies spend even more for those all-automatic things that spit out bad cappucinos and coffees at the push of a button. This is office equipment, business. Everyone here is using it. Now including you!"

She gave me a wry smile. "It's in your kitchen in your home, Peter. If you get audited, I don't think it will fly. But I will do whatever you want me to do."

I had glanced away from her when she said that last bit, but I thought I noticed a change in her tone. However when I turned back to her, she was looking down at the espresso machine receipt. She marked it as office equipment, and we quickly worked through another dozen or so more expense receipts before coming to another one that she was uncertain how to record in the company's books.

"What do you think we should do with it?", I asked.

"I will do whatever you want me to do," she said, looking up at me. Her gaze was sure and calm; there was a kind of quiet strength in it. Again we looked at each other for a long moment, and then again she looked down at the papers in front of her.

"Michelle, are you telling me something, something that you think I want to hear?"

Again she looked at me, calmly, certainly, deliberately. "I will do whatever you want me to do." Then she smiled softly, and for the first time I saw in her eyes a trace of longing, of a want that she had probably carefully suppressed for months.

I reached across and closed her file folder, and slid her papers to the side of the desk. Leaning forward, I took both of her hands gently in my own, and looked into her eyes. She looked hopeful, but nervous at the same time.

"Michelle, this is what I want you to do. I want you to go home..." She immediately looked crestfallen, so I squeezed her hands reassuringly. "No, I don't mean it like that, listen carefully. I want you to go home. I want you to take your time, and relax. Have something to eat. Cozy up on the couch for a while and read something sexy or romantic.

"Then go upstairs and get undressed, very, VERY slowly. Do it as though I was undressing you." Her eyes widened and she took a deep breath as she apparently remembered our last time together.

"Take a long, hot, relaxing bubble bath, at least half an hour, and make sure you rub the hot, soapy water into every part of your body." She inhaled a huge sigh, and her eyelids half-closed. "I want to you to shave or trim everywhere, as close as you are willing to do it, maybe a little more.

"When you get out of the bath, dry yourself very gently and very slowly, as though it wasn't you drying yourself, it was your lover, or Brad Pitt, doing it." She sighed again, and then slowly, as the Brad Pitt joke finally registered, smiled a bit shakily.

"Don't put on any makeup or perfume. Put on a super-thick, super-soft, warm terrycloth robe, a white one. If you don't have one, I want you to go shopping on your way home and buy the very best one you can find anywhere in town - no matter what it costs, get the best - and I will pay you back for it. I want you to put on that robe, and nothing else, nothing at all." I paused. "Well, unless you have a pearl necklace," I smiled, "that would be very nice. Then light one candle and put it by your bed.

"When you're ready, I want you to unlock your front door and turn out all the lights in the house. Go back upstairs, and lie on your bed and wait for me. I will come at ten o'clock, sharp."

I paused again as I smiled encouragingly at her. "That is what I want you to do. Will you do that?"

Her hands in mine as I was speaking had begun to tremble very slightly. Her eyes were open again, glistening and dancing around my face, and she was smiling softly, her breasts rising and falling with her long, deep breathing. She turned her hands in mine and squeezed my fingers gently. "I will do," she said in a low quiet voice, "whatever you want me to do."

After Michelle left, I relaxed too, and then had a shower. Still naked, I padded around packing a little bag with toys to take to her place, including a bottle of the marvelous Pjur Body Glide, a superb silicone-based lubricant. A little of it makes skin on any part of the body feel silky-smooth, wonderful for long, sensuous rub-downs. Add little more and all friction disappears completely... incredibly slippery. And it lasts and lasts without ever seeming to dry out or get sticky. As I thought of using it liberally on Michelle, my cock started bouncing up and getting in the way as I packed the bag. I dressed quickly and left.

Driving through the crisp fall air to her townhouse not far away, my mind wandered through the things I wanted to do with her. By the time I pulled into her driveway and saw that her house was dark, with only a faint warm glow from the upper window, I had pretty good wood on.

Her house was warm as I opened the front door, fresh-smelling with hints of a soapy bath and of vanilla that may have been wafting from the candle upstairs. I closed the door with a deliberate thud, wanting to leave no doubt that I had arrived. I then took my time in hanging my jacket in the closet, and began to slowly ascend the narrow stairs. Every few steps I let my foot fall more heavily, so that Michelle would know that I was getting nearer, but then waited seconds before advancing further.

She was lying on her bed, not coquettishly perched on an elbow but flat on her stomach, hands by her sides, face flat on her pillow, turned towards me. If I needed further confirmation of her pleasure in being submissive, that might have been it. That, and the fact that she silently watched me as I entered the room, eyes wide and shining in the warm candlelight, smiling a bit tentatively, breathing heavily. Her marvelously-fluffy white terrycloth robe billowed around her body, revealing just her smooth calves and feet and small-looking hands in the dim light. The soft glow of pearls peeked out from under the robe at her neck.

"Michelle," I said softly, "this is absolutely perfect, you've done very well."

She smiled more widely, and pressed her hands against her hips. "Thank you," she said, and after a pause, "I really enjoyed getting ready. Thank you for that too."

I took several things from my bag and laid them beside each other on her bed-table. One of them was a wicked-looking stainless steel thing, an Njoy dildo that was great for anal and g-spot play, but looked like a steel instrument of torture. "Don't worry about this thing, Michelle, " I said as I laid it down, "all of these are for pleasure only, the last thing I'd do is hurt you." She did look a little worried, though, as I stepped back and began unbuckling my belt in front of her, but she didn't say anything.

I let my pants fall to the floor, leaving on my cock-tented shorts, and pried my slip-on shoes off my bare feet. Still dressed in a loose-hanging shirt and shorts, I sat on the edge of the bed. Brushing back a stray lock of her hair, I bent to kiss her cheek softly. I began to rub over the cozy robe, down her back and onto her bum, moving the soft cloth against her naked skin beneath it, as I talked to her.

"Michelle, you've been a very good girl and you are going to be rewarded for it. If I do anything that causes you pain, it will be by accident. Tell me right away and I will stop. However if I am not hurting you, you must submit to me and accept what I'm doing, even if it feels strange or different, and trust me to make it part of your pleasure. Do you understand this?"

"Yes," she said tentatively, in a small-sounding voice.

Momentarily worried I asked, "Do you want it this way?" Immediately her confidence seemed to return and she looked up at me. "Yes," she said firmly, "Please. I will do whatever you want me to do."

I brushed her face. "Undo your robe," I said, and pull it out from under you." She humped herself up and quickly complied, laying face-down back on the bed with the robe pulled out on either side of her, hands again submissively at her sides. 

Holding the cuff of her left sleeve, I nudged her arm and she pulled it out of the sleeve. After extracting her other arm, I nudged both into a folded position on the pillow just above her head. The fluffy warm robe was now just draped across her body. The pearls at her neck looked warm and soft in the candlelight.

After rubbing up and down her back and bum for a few minutes, deliberately moving the robe against her skin, I drew away to open the bottle of lubricant. I heard Michelle's long, deep sigh.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked.

"Whatever I want to do," I rumbled. I wasn't really into this dominance thing for myself, but it seemed to succeed at my intention to excite her... I heard a slight whimper as she exhaled a long breath and sagged against the bed. 

I warmed a little oil between my hands, and began massaging her arms and barely-exposed shoulders. The silicone lubricant imparted a silky-ness to her skin... just a little of it made skin seem softer but still very tactile, not slippery but smooth and sensual. I worked into her muscles from her neck to her fingertips, first one arm and then the other. Then I returned to her neck, and began massaging under the pearls and up the side of her neck.

"Ohhhhh, " she murmured, eyes closed, "even this is wonderful." She opened her eyes and tilted her head to smile gratefully up at me. I patted her cheek. "I enjoy it too, Michelle. It's very satisfying doing this to someone who really appreciates it." Pause. "It'll be even more satisfying when I've made you so limp and wet you can't even lift your hand, let alone your head." She groaned softly as she dropped her head back onto the pillow and closed her eyes again, and she pressed her bum against my hip beside her. "I feel like I'm close to that already."

I slowly rolled the thick robe down her back, a few inches at a time, until just the first swells of her bum began to rise above her back. When we had been together months before, I had left her shirt on and had felt more than I had seen of her back. Now seeing its smooth expanse completely naked, pearls at her neck, with her soft breasts pushing out from beneath her, was very exciting.

Reaching for the oil, I chose not to warm it in my hands this time, but held the bottle high over her back. I didn't squeeze it, just allowed the oil to drip out slowly. As the first cool drops splashed down, she sucked in her breath for each, and squirmed slightly as it continued to drip down, one tiny cold splash at a time, randomly all over her back. She murmured something into the pillow, unintelligible.

I returned my warm hands to her shoulders and began massaging again, spreading the oil into her soft skin, this time working down from her shoulders towards her narrow waist, and then back up again. I tickled lightly into her armpits, and glided on the silky oil down her sides and over the sides of her heavy breasts flaring out from her sides. Back and forth, up and down, occasionally eliciting little moans or gasps as I worked hard, and then lightly, and then hard again. I could feel her becoming even more limp and relaxed as I worked soothingly on her soft form.

Replacing her robe over her naked back, I shifted down the bed, took some more oil, and began on her left foot, strongly working my thumbs into its arch and smoothing down the sides of her feet and between her toes. I moved up her calf - not a trace of hair or stubble - and worked the thick muscle there... Michelle was in pretty good shape. I moved to her other foot and calf and repeated the performance. She was sagging into the bed, totally relaxed.

I then decided to take a little for myself. I'm a bum man, and slowly folding up her robe to expose Michelle's smooth thighs and wonderful full bum tented my shorts even further. I had to adjust myself before squirting a pool of oil onto her lower back, at the top of her cleft.

I spread the oil thickly around her luscious bum cheeks before gliding deep into the crevice between them, gliding up and down the smooth warmth, feeling her cheeks squeezing against my hand. I pressed firmly against her anus for a while, twirling my thumb around its crinkled pad, and then glided down to her already-slick perineum to fiddle some more. Michelle pushed her bum up to meet this attention, squirming and twisting against my fingers, which I took as a promising sign. For long minutes I kneaded her full bum cheeks and worked down towards her hot centre, while my cock reached full staff and then some within my shorts.

I returned to her leg, with more oil, working up her smooth left thigh with both hands, one inside, one outside, working up higher and higher, firm, then soft, then firm again. As I neared her pussy I could feel its damp heat while still inches away, and I felt Michelle slightly open her legs further and begin to tense in anticipation. I lingered away from it a moment or two, and then glided all the way up to press the side of my hand firmly into her centre, thumb against her anus. She gasped, and squeezed her thighs and bum against my hand as she pushed back against them.

She was soaking, sopping wet, slick everywhere and, wonderfully, bare. She had shaved herself completely! What a thrill it was to feel her thick, puffy nether lips, slick almost beyond belief, and the hot slit between them with the prominent bump of her clit.

I gripped her upper thigh firmly with both hands and worked my inner index finger all over her wonderful slimy parts while Michelle bucked against it, voicing small plaintive, "oh, oh, oh" sounds every few seconds. Soon her rhythmic gripping of my hand became stronger and stronger. I judged that she wasn't far from going over the top. I waited for a moment when she relaxed her strong thighs enough after squeezing against me and then snatched my hands away.

She groaned in protest and sagged against the bed, her back heaving under the thick white robe with the breath of her exertions. "Oh, Peter!" she exclaimed, and then again after a deep breath, "Oh, Peter!"

I felt certain that if I repeated with a massage of her other thigh and its culminating hot juncture, she would get the orgasm she had almost achieved. Not my plan, though. I smacked her bum a couple of times, not hard, enjoying watching its jiggling softness, and said, "You're going to cum when I want you to, not before."

I returned to massaging her bum, taking pleasure in its soft, full cheeks and well-oiled crevice and working the pad of a finger around and around her anus. Again, she seemed to enjoy that attention, so after a few minutes I tapped her and said, "Lift your bum up, and spread your legs a little more." While she moved I took a pillow and a nearby cushion, and slid them under her hips. "Now relax."

She did, settling comfortably on the cushioning beneath her, bum raised nicely, very enticingly in the air, her wet centre open and exposed with its thick, smooth lips glistening. The robe had slipped off onto the bed, and she was now completely naked, and beautiful, and hot. Wow.

Returning one hand to continue kneading her bum, with the other I reached for the wicked-looking stainless steel dildo.

It had three bumps spaced evenly along one end of its length, the first being a small expansion at the tip with each successive bump increased in size for anal play, while the other end curved and terminated in a larger bulb perfect for g-spot stimulation. A great tool, with many successes notched (figuratively!) on it. Her bum was still plenty lubricated, so after sliding the cold steel dildo around to coat it with oil - she gasped and squirmed - I pressed the small end against Michelle's crinkled hole and applied pressure. She sucked in her breath, and tensed against it. I pressed a little harder, but heard a small sound like a whimper so I stopped. After a pause she said, her voice muffled by the pillow, "Peter, I don't know if I'm up for that, I've never had anything there before." She sounded embarrassed. I was surprised after her apparently-enthusiastic response to my finger rubbing the outside of her bumhole. I decided to push the point - not literally of course.

"Does it hurt, Michelle?"

"No," she admitted, "but it doesn't feel right. And it's distracting from all the other nice stuff you were doing."

"We agreed, though, didn't we Michelle?" I asked gently. "You were willing to do whatever I wanted you to do, excepting anything that hurt you. I want you to do this. For you."

I waited patiently for her response. When it came, it was preceded by an exasperated little grunt. Hmmm, maybe not so submissive after all?

"OK," she said, "impale me if you have to. But I'm going to have a lawyer for our agreement next time!" She gave a little laugh.

I spanked her bum lightly a few times again. "You behave, young lady. You're in a perfect position for a very good spanking. Now just relax, push out against it a little bit, and it will go in easily."

And so it did. With the first small bump of the tool inside, I began rubbing her glistening pussy again with one hand, bumping into her clit frequently, while I wiggled the steel dildo gently with the other, working its little bulb just inside her anus. It took a while, but soon the attentions at her pussy and bum had her pretty distracted as she began to moan and move again. I don't think she even noticed the second bulb going in, and it was her own excited bucking and squeezing moments later that forced in the third and largest bulb. I whirred my fingers on her clit while I slowly slid the tool deep inside her bum, all three bumps on it rubbing along her sensitive sheath inside. She gasped, and cried out, and gasped again, and began to go rigid as I wriggled hand and dildo around at her sensitive center.

And again I stopped, to her frustrated cry, and watched her breathing settle again, mouth open, face sagged deep into her pillow, as I rubbed softly on her sloping back, over her raised bum, and a little around her slick pussy. I gave the dildo a sharp little twist, and she sucked in her breath. "Ohhhhh! OK sir, you made your point. It's different, but it is pretty interesting." Then, in a much softer and less-flippant tone she said, "Thank you Peter. I will do whatever you want me to do. No more argument. But pleeeze, can you finish me off now? I can't take much more of this fabulous up-and-down agony, my muscles down there aren't used to this kind of workout."

"OK," I relented. "Flip over onto your back. But be very careful when you're settling your bum onto the bed. The impaler is staying in, part of it is sticking out of your bum, and you could really hurt yourself."

She carefully turned over as I removed the cushions from beneath her, and gingerly lowered her bum onto the bed, feeling the steel dildo pressing inside her. As she settled and I saw her naked front for the first time, I marveled at how beautiful she was. Her middle age certainly did not show in her full breasts, her smooth stomach, her narrow waist, her newly and neatly-trimmed pussy, or her strong legs. Stunning. The pearls just capped it off. The centuries during which they have been among the most prized of all jewels become understandable in an instant when seen like this. There is no sight more beautiful than a naked woman in pearls. As she looked up at me openly admiring her, she reached for my hand.

"You make me feel like such a beautiful woman." Her eyes glistened. "I haven't felt like it in a very long time. I know we're not going to date, don't worry. I just want you to know how truly grateful I am." She smiled softly, almost sadly, and drew my hand to her lips.

I took off my shirt and lay on the bed beside her, folding her into a soft bear hug and a long gentle kiss.

"I'm grateful too, Michelle. Being appreciated as a lover is almost better than the sex itself. You make me feel very fulfilled too. But," and I reached down and tweaked the dildo in her bum, "the show's not over 'til the fat lady sings!"

"Hey, I'm not fat!" She grinned and punched my shoulder gently, and then looked deep into my eyes. "But you can make me sing. Oh boy, you REALLY make me sing!"

She said she wanted to head for home, so to speak, but there didn't seem to be any point in rushing it. I reached for the magic oil again. She watched un-protesting as I raised it high over her, and aimed for her left nipple. Perfectly. Her nipple hardened against the cold drip that landed on it, and she sucked air through her nose. I wasn't as good at hitting her other nipple, but it hardened too.

As I slowly dripped more here and there over her breasts and onto her flat stomach, her breathing began to quicken yet again. I could feel her watching my face as I was intent on my drip-artistry, and then she reached to caress it with her warm hand. I put down the oil and kissed her again, long and soft, gently duelling with her tongue as I began caressing her breasts and stomach, spreading the oil around and delighting again in the silky-smooth softness of this beautiful woman. Her breaths became longer, and deeper, and she reached behind my neck and pulled me to her face as I worked nearer and nearer to her pussy. She made a little noise and sucked my tongue deeper into her mouth as I finally glided further down onto her pussy, taking more oil down to add to her own still-slick heat, and firmly cupped her pussy in my hand.

Remembering the success of our other time together, I had already decided to repeat my hand magic and help her to another ripping, squirting blast-off before taking my pleasure. I really did enjoy giving it almost as much as getting it. Without much pre-amble - she was already moving herself against my hand - I slowly sank a couple of fingers inside her. As she stiffened in pleasure against them, I could feel the hard knobs of the dildo in her bum move against the back of my fingers against her vaginal wall, and she stiffened more. This was going to be plenty good enough, I decided, I wouldn't need any of the other toys I had brought. I hooked my fingers into the fleshy pad of her g-spot, settled the Mount of Venus (what a great name!) of my palm against her clit, and began rhythmically squeezing and sliding my hand around.

She exhaled hard into my mouth, and I pulled back as much as her hand firmly clamped to the back of my neck would allow to watch her face and let her breath. She sucked in a long breath and held it, raising her pelvis to push into my hand and then lowering it against the bed, and I could again feel the dildo moving in her bum before she gasped out again. I imagined that she could feel it much more as she grunted and sucked air deeply, and rolled her bum on the bed.

It was obvious that she liked my trusty toy... notch up another one. I squeezed against her insides and wriggled my palm against her clit a few more times. As I locked my lips over one of her nipples and squeezed hard with them, her eyes rolled back and she grunted in a very unladylike way, when I did it again she cried out and stiffened hard off the bed, holding her breath again as I sucked the nipple firmly into my mouth.

I slowed the squeezing rhythm of my hand, trying to prolong her time on the plateau, but she was over-primed from our previous climbs that night and I miscalculated. Her ever-so-satisfying hot squirting and splashing through my fingers preceded her sharp cry by a second or two. With a practiced flip I pulled the protruding end of the dildo out of harm's way just before she crashed her hips onto the bed and pulled her legs up very tightly, trapping my hand between them.

She grunted out a prolonged, "Uugghhhhhhhh!!" before pulling my head down with great strength into a very hard, passionate kiss. I felt the quivering and rolling of her stomach muscles against my trapped wrist, and she made a strangled sound in her throat as still more hot liquid gushed out of her. Gawd, it was great.

I held her for long minutes as she slowly relaxed her legs back on to the bed, and sagged, and her breathing slowed, before deciding it was time to take my own reward. It wasn't going to take much, I was well-primed myself.

I nudged Michelle gently a few times until she became conscious of my intent, she was still pretty hazy. She kissed me again, weakly, and rolled over, raising her bum in the air again, giving herself to me, and rubbed my leg in encouragement. As she lowered her head to the pillow again I slowly pulled the dildo out of her bum, and she winced a bit as I did it... not the fun part. Then I positioned myself behind her, lowered my shorts, and slowly slid home into her sopping wet, blazing hot pussy. Not tight, but I felt my balls sliding around on her slick nether lips as I pushed in all the way, felt the heat, felt the little fingers inside her stroking me, and then felt her squeeze down against me. It really wasn't going to take much.

I gripped her soft bum cheeks and pushed into her as far as I could bury myself before gliding slowly back out. Fifteen exquisite, slow sloppy strokes later, when she reached between her legs and caressed my balls as I strained to hit bottom, I exploded, gushing deep into her the hot jism that had been building in my balls through hours of anticipation and excitement. I grunted, and gripped her bum harder, and squirmed against her, as the release exploded from me in a series of powerful pulses while I held my breath and the room seemed to go dark.

Then I lowered myself gently over her back to give her a grateful squeeze before rolling off to fold her into my arms. We both lay there, breathing slowly returning to normal, perspiration evaporation cooling our backs while our joined fronts stayed warm, soft, tenderly still exciting. She had her hand resting lightly on my cheek, and was murmuring very softly, perhaps thinking she was talking. I couldn't understand many words, but I thought I understood her intentions. I done good.

I had not planned an exit strategy, and realized I didn't feel like I needed one. As the soft, warm woman nestled in my arms drifted off to sleep, I let the pleasant darkness gradually overtake me too, though not before I had a semi-stiffy rubbing against her soft belly, imagining what we would do together when we awoke.