A Shot of Courage

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I’ve been thinking about him all day. The morning lingering snuggle and the passionate forehead kiss. The day was magical—a long peaceful walk along the riverside. Pausing to wonder at nature and the amazing life moment in which two imperfect people in an imperfect place, can be living a dream existence; such things had never happened to us, until now. We smiled lovingly at each other and pulled even closer together in our walk towards the waiting car. Stopping only briefly to admire the arch of dead limbs from a fallen tree and the artistic manner in which the decaying trunk of that same tree lay on its side in a wave of grayish and withered white abstractive rest.

Dinner would be our favorite dish of tilapia upon a bed of spinach and roma tomatoes, corn, with Parmesan cheese crumbs by candlelight and with strawberry kisses to quench our thirst. We sent our little man to bed and put the family dog away for the night. Perfect evening, peaceful with blue flame from the candles, I left to change.

Returning in black silk to hide the revealing nighty (his favorite) I entered the kitchen to refresh our drinks and to add a shot of Irish whiskey. I watched him working on his novel. Secretly dreaming of the day it would be published, knowing it would raise eyebrows of interest and esteem from the waiting hungry literary audience and upon its completion, we would celebrate his success to excess. Smiling, I settled down next to the crystal vase and glass candleholders to bask in the warm light.

Smartphone in hand, I surfed the net for my favorite music videos before settling on porn. We like porn, watched it often together in bed by candlelight. The smartphone kick- stand made it ease to view while we sipped cocktails and caressed each other. But tonight our private career goals and relaxation came first. Coaxing him to lay his novel aside (horrible me) I offered him the first of many shots for the night.

Smiling he came nearer, “What ya watching?” I moved the screen so that he may see the shapely woman sucking on a massive cock. He took his chair; we toasted, swallowed and laughed in relief, including merter escort the creamed-face young woman with large sweaty breasts.

“I am good with him,” I thought, “as if magic, the stars, or the cosmos aligned just from our connection in this place. Standing for hours in his kitchen I paint, my sadness unburdened and naked of thought; and without skill the intimate touch of fingertips to canvas give way to passion and void. Emerged only in the moment, I scream for release. Cradle, pound and secretly weep my emotions spin out of control. So taunt are my thoughts that I secret them, exposed only when I am alone. Shameful of their display, shameful of my need to make love to myself in this way; and after the moment has passed, I rest my head upon the canvas–my lover to catch my breathe before moving away.” I’d never tell him this. For I admire him too much to cheat with such an object. Looking up toward him, we select another of our favorite sexual films. And he pours the next shot.

All is quiet for both kid and dog are asleep, opting for a more comfortable place to continue our evening. We move to the room we share with two well-placed windows; moonlight often streams through them in this mountain place. The view is exceptional when I ride him and with each rise and fall the moon and I play peek-a-boo. Some nights, I am embarrassed for the moon to glance upon my lustful face, to hear me breathe heavily while he shakes inside of me. Other nights I am taken by the view of the moon, while he tightens his hold upon my bottom, plunging his hard cock within me, just before the surge of his release breaks my moonful gaze. But tonight, I move to light three red candles near his bed. Picking up my waiting beer, he settles down next to me to rest.

Our faces in shadows, we click our shot glasses again, to the smack of ass and cock. She moans and jerks forward from the size of him and I watch the face of my lover as his breathing changes. We do not touch physically, but our eyes are glued to the small screen. A test of wills, whom shall break first. We periodically nişantaşı escort turn to check on the other, hoping for a signal when we shall join into the fun. But stubbornly we resist the urge to act, so I get up slowly, head to the kitchen to pour another set of shots for us.

Entering the bedroom again, “Mmm, oooooh, yea, yea,” loudly echoes in our room. “A bit loud, don’t you think?” “Oh, is it?” “Yes.” Moving aside, I pass him a cup and we slur our toast. On screen, he pulls out of her wet mouth, in a pause to collect himself. Bending towards the camera, she hungrily takes his cock again in her mouth. Lips rolled back to accept his large member, slurp, smack, in a fluid motion, her head bobs up and down. I take this scene in, while imagining the taste of the clean flesh of my lover. She rubs his balls and I imagine rubbing the tightening balls of my lover. His man’s head becomes red then enlarges and I must taste it! Similar to what I see on the screen. But I would suck on more than my lover’s head; I must taste his entire swollen shaft. My eyes move from the screen to my partner’s lower body, I pause to take notice of a raise within his pajama bottom and I breathe deep. I must hold out, touching him now would be a mistake, knowing that each one of his tight balls in my mouth, rolling across my warm tongue would end in such a mess, would be too soon for me (us) now. And suddenly his legs tense and his voice deepens, ” did you lock the door?” ” I will check.” Inside this sound sobers me, I become scared by the tone and make a flimsy excuse, “let me put these away, and I’ll be right back” Alone in the kitchen, I lay our shot glasses in the sink. Becoming more nervous with each step. I want him, truly. But I know it’s going to hurt and I’m not ready for that. Then upon the refrigerator, the bottle sits and I take it, hands shaking to my lips for a sip of courage I take another shot.

I stumble inside, lock the door and walk slowly to my side his bed. I had scarcely rested my head upon the pillow before he covers me. A firm tight grip holds my breast in place ortaköy escort while his mouth pulls angrily at my nipple. I am in such pain that every core in my body tenses and I rise off the mattress entirely. But he pulls me down in place and I am not released. In my drunken haze, his forearm press upon my lower chest and abdomen while his weight changes to take my left breast in his mouth. Two fingers are roughly shoved inside of me and I wince with pain then pleasure. He doesn’t say a word during this lustful attack. But I am on fire inside and out. Tears begin to form in my eyes, when I am released and my head pushed toward his waiting swollen cock. Relieved to have him free me from his intense caresses, I take him with my mouth without complaint. He smells of soap and water, fresh and firm to touch. I like him this way and hungrily seek to absorb him completely. Then in a spasm and rush he pushes me away from him and his hot semen spill onto my hand and the bed. Before our senses clear, we can hear the smartphone playing another movie and she is screaming, “wait, wait.” My lover pushes me back onto the mattress in one move and applies his body onto me. Still not firm, his hand replaces his still dripping cock and I am rammed hard and deep. His shoulder suffocates me, but I don’t want him to leave me. I grasp for air and bite into his side, but he does not leave me. Trying to raise my head from the pillow, I cry, “wait, wait,” he does not stop and I ache so much from the thrusting, that tears flow upon my face. I wonder in an oxygen-deprived haze if he senses me, if he knows I am on the brink of death and ecstasy. He is crushing me…. Then in answer, his free hand and arm moves under my pillow and cradles my head and upper body in place to meet more of his demanding thrust. My speech is silenced. I can only hope my body will respond to his need soon—before I pass out. Then from a place I know not of, I cum for him, again and again and then air returns to my lungs.

Afterwards, he holds me and I say not a word. I don’t utter the knowledge of my throbbing insides. The soreness of my breast and my thirst for water to cool those touched places and my throat. But somehow I just drift to sleep, waking off and on whenever I try to move and the pain returns to remind me. I fear the sun tomorrow and my attempt to rise from this bed of sweet torture for it will surely hurt and I will be without the effects of my shot of courage.

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