30 Hours Of It

30 Hours Of It 30 Hours Of It

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Tags

Summary

The first undressing and sex that night was just the start of it

Tags

Summary

The first undressing and sex that night was just the start of it

Content

Submitted: May 15, 2016

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Content

Submitted: May 15, 2016

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I sat up in the bed, a sheet covering my loins, my top half exposed as the early morning light flooded the room.

Thirty hours we’d been going at it. Thirty non-stop hours of writhing, moaning and screaming out loud. On the bed, in the spa, back on the bed and in the spa again, on all fours, standing up and in a multitude of other positions. With my lover, husband and life partner now standing by the bed, the room was flooded with love.

We were both exhausted beyond belief, even now only kept going only by an indefinable soup of hormonal forces, adrenalin and love. And lust. Even at this moment, with Greg there, there was always lust. There was a grin a mile wide on my face at the same time as my eyes streamed with tears.

My crutch ached, my breasts were swollen and my nipples were large, sore and damp.

In his exhausted, completely sleep starved state, Greg was struggling to get a top on; uncooperative delicate fingers get caught on the oversized hem of the long sleeves. And yet all the time he looked down with loving adoring eyes. And I knew the eyes looking back up at him were no less loving and adoring and filled with wonder.

How did this start? How did we get to this point?

Even as my brain is dulled by sleep deprivation, the start shines out as a clear bright memory. It started as it always does when I’m with Greg; with love and lust.

We’d been out to a corporate cocktail party; one for the clients of the accounting firm where I was a partner. The men had gone black tie; the women cocktail dresses.

Cocktail parties were always something I hated. Having to mingle with people you barely knew; somehow intruding into already formed groups to get yourself introduced around and then, after the correct amount, of time escape the group to move on; all without looking rude or pushy. That and the superficiality of the conversation.

I had a few fall back techniques to deal with my inadequacy. Regular readers will know by now my basic attitude to the female body is that if nature has given you a tall slim figure, perky breasts, a cute arse and legs that go all the way up to your bum, then you use it for your own benefit. A mini sheath cocktail dress with a reasonably deep v neckline did the trick nicely. Maybe a bit on the edge of corporate acceptability, but I wasn’t going to let a tut tut or two from the ultra-conservatively inclined take away what had always proved to be my winning advantage.

Nothing makes you more welcome in a circle of men than when your presence is preceded by a pair of tightly sheathed boobs framing two half orbs of olive fleshed cleavage. After that it’s up to the owner to make her presence valued for more than its visual appeal and that I can do.

Of course these days the important people in the corporate world aren’t all men. At the very least the technique’s not going to work on the other half and some – but by no means all – women can get a bit peeved at you for doing it. That’s where Greg comes in handy; engaging and charming the women by turning the conversation to them before offering me a segway into it.

He’d done it to a tee; making the night a successful and almost enjoyable one. By the time I got him home I majorly had the hots for him; something always helped by the sight of his bod in a dinner suit.

By the time we got up to the bedroom our hands were all over each other. I quickly got his coat off so I could slide my hand across the soft linen of his shirt where it moulded to the shape of his strong muscular chest. Then to the waist of his pants to release the erection already bursting the fly and stretching the material enough to make it hard to undo the button.

As we stood kissing by the end of the bed, he was still too busy fondling with my body through the sheath dress to be stripping me. By the time I got him down to his shirt and undies, I was still in the dress and my panties. I suppose that made us about even and just shows that men go around overdressed.

Wrapped in each other’s arms we fell like that onto the bed; delighting in the touching and tangle of bodies that came with completing the undressing process.

Naked at last I mounted him; pushing him deep into my body. Lifting my torso up on my outstretched arms I slid him in and out of my body, rubbing my clit on his pubis with every thrust. Sex doesn’t have to be full of variation to be wonderful. As he always does – and given the sensitivity of my nipples I love him to - Greg lifted himself up to suck one in his mouth while fingering the other.

That first orgasm wasn’t long in coming; accompanied by the screaming cries of pleasure that I’ve become somewhat infamous for. Then it was Greg’s turn; rolling me over to let him thrust from on top. Dipping the full length of his impressive manhood in and out while I pulsed my pussy against it. All the while I can see him staring down at my breasts; something he free admits heightens his sexual arousal.

Finally that all too familiar moment when he hesitates before burying himself fully into me for his final release; a prolonged groan accompanying the moment his seed floods my body and starts its struggle to impregnate itself into the deepest recesses of my anatomy.

Collapsing down on me, I hug him as his body convulses with little mini orgasms; aftershocks of his climax as my body greedily sucks out every drop of his precious cum. He stays hard. His erection plugs me and binds us together as we kiss, cuddle and roll about; our passions far from sated by that first cycle of love making.

And now, nine months and thirty hours afterwards, the product of our love has come into the world. A beautiful daughter.

How do I know that was the moment; the love making amongst all our lovemaking that produced our child. I do, I just do.

My wonderful Greg is standing over the perspex cradle holding our baby while he struggles to put her in proper clothes for the first time; battling patiently to collect her long, slender, uncooperative fingers together into a single bunch to slip them through the sleeve of her new onesie.

He’s staring down at her, his eyes wide with wonder; talking to her in a soft continuous voice. Letting her know that he’s there to guide her future; already talking to her about joining the surf lifesavers, participating in nippers and being a future Iron Woman.

She in turn stares wide eyed back at him; putting a face to the voice she has heard in the womb during these long months of pregnancy. For another of the uncountable times since we were transferred into our room, my eyes well with tears; for the wonder of what we have created and for the power of the love which created it.

He picks her up and hands her back to me before sitting on the bed beside me as I offer her my breast.

Among all the visitors we are expecting today – our parents and siblings - the woman she will come to know as auntie Kate will soon be here too. I just know she also will talk to her about becoming an Iron Woman. I suspect her fate is sealed.

 


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