"Book Case"
by
We were in bed, this time in my room, reading, one
early Thursday morning, having just had sex and not
yet feeling the need for breakfast. With the covers
pulled up around our naked, tangent bodies, life was
snug and warm, but I ran out of story before long and
went to the bookcase to pick out something else. As I
emerged from the covers, the cold air hit me and I put
on the white pinafore nightgown that lay at the foot
of the nightstand. I then walked to the left end of
the bookcases that lined one wall of my room.
So many books! But then, we both loved them, so
it was no surprise that we had many, many of them.
I padded over to science fiction and eyed the
Piers Anthony shelves critically. They were so
disordered that even though they were mostly up over
my head, I resolved to straighten a few of them.
Xanth's "A Spell for Chameleon" was replaced at the
left of the Xanth series. I reached over my head,
up on my toes, to place a few hardcover Xanth
books in their proper positions, ignoring a
warning sensation of increasing discomfort and
fullness in my lower abdomen. I wanted to get
this done, at least a bit more, and I didn't want
to interrupt it to walk to the bathroom.
I progressed to middle Xanth, "Question Quest" and
"The Color of Her Panties", and I continued to
ignore the messages my bladder was sending, even
though they grew stronger. I paid no heed until
after you got out of bed and sneaked up on me to
hug me from behind. I think what happened was
that the shock of your touch startled certain
muscles of mine into relaxing. You told me the
end result was pleasantly warm liquid drops
hitting your foot in a quick staccato. I could
feel you doing something involving my nightgown
between my legs, but I just smiled and let you,
politely spreading my feet for you.
I felt you turn me to face you. You were at my
waist level, and holding some part of my dress
behind my back. Finish up, you invited me,
and followed my glance at the virgin carpeting
beneath my feet. Fluidly, the decision to
surprise you, and me, by accepting your invite,
left my brain and ran down into the muscles that
usually keep me from wetting, whispering a message
to them to relax, to let go. As badly as I needed
to, that was all it took. Urine flowed down into
the fabric pressing against my pussy, where you
were holding it fed through my legs and held
behind me. I felt it spread through the fabric a
little bit, pooling around my lips and thoroughly
soaking the thin, white cotton before it
penetrated and streamed into the carpeting.
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As I continued to relax into the euphoria of a
desperately needed release, I felt the warmth
travel down one leg, the widening trail of
wetness. The carpet underfoot was feeling damp.
I was almost finished and feeling so good. I
looked down at your eyes, which were glued to my
crotch. It occurred to me that the fabric there
must be transparent from being soaked. You
caressed me with one hand and with the other
released my gown, sending wetness down my other
leg and into the carpet. For several moments, you
continued to stroke the sodden gown onto my
equally sodden pussy. I squirmed under your
touch.
You were still touching me, but I helped you to
your feet. Your hand felt good, but I knew lying
against you, arms and legs wrapped around you, you
in me, would feel better. We got back into bed
and you lay on me. I hugged you with my legs so
that you could feel that they were still wet to
the knees. My arms went around your shoulders,
squeezing tightly so that you'd know I loved you.
And our hips moved, letting you slide slickly past
me, I was still wet there too, a few times
before you went in a bit.
You let me move my hands to your hips so that I
could control your entry into me, so that it
wouldn't hurt. I lifted my legs so that my knees
were by my nipples. With each motion of yours, we
put you deeper into me, until you were flat
against me. And at some point you had just the
right angle, or I had just the right realization
of how close we were, because I got very slippery
indeed, inside. You noticed, and kissed me, and
told me how sexy you thought I was.
We moved against each other, and I was pretty far
gone in loving you and what I was doing with you,
so I only have snapshots of it in my brain: your
penis, rigid, sliding almost all the way out of me
and then smoothly back in again; my awareness of
what each motion might feel like to you, aided by
the look on your face, the way the rest of you was
moving; your breathing quickening and the little
sounds you made just before you came; the way you
froze and then shuddered and the pulsing within me
just after you told me, I m going to come inside
you, my lover.
I always love the way your body spasms just after,
or is it part of, your orgasm. I love your face. I
love you, sweetheart. You slipped out of me, you
kissed me, and you turned away from me. I pressed
my front against your back and held you. I
thought of you sleeping in my arms on a certain
bus trip, cried a little without knowing why, and
fell into sleep with you.
- The End -
[Note: this story is protected by international copyright law,
all rights not expressly waived are reserved by its author.]
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