When he was finally naked and climbing into the bed with me, our lips caressing each other’s skin at random, the laughter bubbled up and out of me in an uncontrollable wave.
This was heaven.
Our arms were wrapped around each other as we lay on our sides, and I draped one leg over his hips. His thick, long cock brushed against my core and one hand of his dropped down to pull my leg higher. The head of his staff slid through my folds and wet itself before straining against my opening. I gasped as he slid it in gently at first, then firmly pressed his hips until he was buried deep in my pussy.
His cock was warm, thick, and powerful and I felt my body shudder with an incredible sense of rightness. It was as if I was made for him, my body specifically molded for his. We gave each other pleasure of the highest order when we were connected, and as he began to rock into me, I felt the thunderous power of his strength, of his need, of our connection.
Our lips locked as he began to pump into me, sounds of exertion coming from his mouth. I threw my head back, and he brought his lips down to my breast, swirling around the nipple with his tongue before taking it into his warm mouth. He suckled on me as he fucked me, and I cried out as I felt myself slipping toward a heavy climax.
Suddenly, he threw me to my back and mounted me, pulling my legs up so my ankles rested on his shoulders near his neck. Both hands filled with my breasts and squeezed, holding me in place while he rammed his cock deep inside me. I reached for him, digging my nails into his muscular backside as he increased the intensity and speed, until I was dizzy with the sensation of being completely filled. Completely fulfilled.
A powerful, earth-shattering climax rolled over me as I lay there, helpless in his hands, my thighs vibrating as I came. He took pleasure in my ecstasy and slowed down, holding himself deep inside me as I shook, and my toes curled. Then he curled over me and kissed my lips gently before pulling out and lying down on his back.
I took the invitation and sat up, reaching down to grasp the base again and take him into my mouth for a moment. I loved the sound that came up from deep inside him when my tongue slid across the ridges and veins of his staff. I climbed on top of him, running my tongue up his body, maneuvering myself into place, and pulling his cock through my folds until I sat down on him, taking him deep inside me.
He sat up, holding me tight as I bounced on him. One hand slid down the center of my ass until his fingers were on my lower lips. The other held me at the base of my neck. I cried out as I rode him harder, faster, until I felt another great orgasm rolling through my body, sending me into a spasm of timeless euphoria. As I did, he growled loudly and came, emptying himself with incredible force deep inside me.
Again, laughter bubbled up in me in the midst of my climax. We came together and tumbled down into the bed, still connected. We lay there for some time, kissing each other gently and continuing to laugh.
25
EVERETT
That had felt really good. Granted, any situation that ended where I was in bed naked with Helen was probably going to go on the good list. But that night had been especially, spectacularly good. One for the books, as it were.
The idea had germinated the day before when Uncle Harry mentioned that if there was anything I needed, he was available for it. Later that night, I broached the subject. I remembered that in all my life, he had only ever cooked one thing, but that he was really good at it. For some reason, the man knew how to cook steak.
I found out that the reason was my grandfather, who passed when I was very young, had taught both my father and Harry how to cook steak. He had been a cook in the Navy and was a very big proponent of weekly get-togethers with family around a grill. When he started to make it big with his investments, the pampered life came with it. But the weekly cookouts stayed, and Uncle Harry ended up taking them over when my grandpa died.
But my father wasn’t ever really interested in that, and by the time I was four or five, we stopped attending Uncle Harry’s cookouts. With no family to visit, he just stopped doing them but kept cooking steaks for himself. If he had picked me up because my parents had scooted off wherever they were going, I would be the lucky recipient of his one cooking masterpiece.