Morning Has Broken (L)

This story contains strong language (L)
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I opened my eyes and stared at the high ceiling and its chandelier, sprawled across the bed on my back, covered just to my waist and only by a sheet. The eight-foot-high French doors stood open to my right, as fresh morning air gently rustled the sheers on either side and blew across my otherwise naked body.

Blue sky and a single, spindly, but gracefully tall, palm tree framed the view outside; it edged the red tile rooftops just below the veranda of our hotel room, four floors up from the street. My eyes lazily drifted closed, in that half-awake, half-dreamy state of half-consciousness that is a taste of perfect peace.

“I love you,” she whispered as my eyes opened once more. I lifted my head from the pillow and saw my wife’s face glancing across my abdomen from its position between my legs. She was kneeling at the end of the bed, her hands now moving across my treasure trail, hips and thighs, oh-so-sensually pulling down the sheet to find a very interested and stiffening cock.

She lifted her head and began to lick the underside of my swelling dick. Her lips moved to the mushroom head and swallowed it whole. Sucking, licking, pausing, caressing with her tongue, squeezing, releasing, sucking some more. The linen sheers silently blew to touch the bed as my head moved to the side and caught a glimpse of the blue sky beyond the open doors. Ecstasy. Pure. Flawless. All consuming.

She hummed as she held the thick rod in her mouth. It was not a song; it was a vibrator—a kind of primal acoustic that made me crazy. She moved her lips up and down, as I propped myself up to watch my wet, slippery veined prick bulge beyond what I thought was possible, jumping, jerking, and near exploding while she worked it.

As I began to moan, she slowed and grabbed my nuts, first just tugging on them, but then massaging them as she continued to suck. One hand moved back up to my stomach, before moving back down and then slipping into my ass, fingering, teasing, probing. God knows, and she knows how I love ass-play. I knew I was close and would have to make a decision.

I chose to bend forward and move my hands to her head, winding her blond hair around my wrists. I pulled her head closer in, but then pulled back, forcing her mouth off my dick. She looked up and whispered, “But, I want to ….” I interrupted, saying, “And I want to …” as I suddenly moved around the bed and pulled her up to where I had been.

She was wearing the silk, lavender camisole that is one of my favorites; her matching lavender lace panties were already soaked as I pulled them down and spread her legs, with my knees planted between them.

Next, I all-but-jumped on her, pulling the camisole away, as I French-kissed her deep and hungrily. My hands cupped her breasts and toyed with nipples standing hard. My dick pressed between her legs, throbbing. I am 6’2, and my wife is 5’6, so my body completely covered hers, as my hips began to grind and push down; I moved forward and put my chest in her face. She licked and kissed, turning toward my tits which were also hard, taught, sensitive; she nibbled and gently bit them. Her hands roamed my back.

She was totally mine, to cover, to kiss, to probe, to caress, to squeeze, to hold still. “I so need you. I love you. I am going to fuck you,” I whispered into her ear. She moaned and mouthed ever so quietly, “Please, please, now.”

I crawled down her body and the bed, licking and sucking on her breasts, then her belly-button, then to her tight slit, wet, delicious. I pushed her legs apart and lapped at the inside of her thighs before diving between them. Her clit was at full attention, her juices thick and flooding. Her cunt bathed the stubble on my face; I was drunk with her wetness. Seriously intoxicated.

I slipped a finger, then two, into her folds. As I Tongued her clit, plunged into her hot pocket, then pressured her G-spot, she began to writhe and call out. “Oh, yes, yes, YES!” My crazy-hard cock now lay sandwiched between my abs and the bed, as I stretched across the sheets with my face buried between my wife’s legs.

“Uh-huh. Yes. Yes! OH. MY. G—DON’T STOP,” she screamed. I growled and gave her clit and cunt the attention they deserve, amped and relentless. Her body shook, almost violently, as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure seized her. I held her firm and did not allow her to buck me off. The first wave subsided, but I did not. I kept going until, moments later, she was overtaken again with even higher intensity. She reached for a pillow to muffle her screams, but they echoed across the room just the same.

Spent, but still trembling, she came down. I moved back up her body and plunged my tongue back into her mouth, her face now bathed, like mine, by the velvety natural lube of her exquisite sex. As I thrust my tongue deep into her mouth repeatedly, I reached with one hand and grabbed my cock, guiding it into her hot, wet, and still amazingly tight after years of being rocked by her stud of a husband. I paused for a moment, lifted my head, and positioned just the head of my dick at her entrance and said again, “I need you so much. I need this so much. You are mine. I love you.” She said, “I’m glad,” with a smile.

And then, with one powerful thrust, I plunged balls deep the whole length of my shaft, so forcefully she jumped and gasped. I stopped and seized her ass cheeks with my hands and pulled them tightly against my groin as I pushed down against her body and the bed, practically bending my engorged cock as it pressed against her deepest wall. Releasing her butt, I then moved in and out rapidly, as if a madman. The pounding was hard, rough, and electrifying. She moaned, and so did I.

I kept this up for some time and then knew it was time. Time to blow and fill her with a gallon of my cum. I lifted my head and chest, using my arms as if doing a push-up, all the while grinding with abandon. I began to vocalize stupid questions for which I expected no answer. “Are you ready, babe? For… my… cum? Are you ready to be… OH. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. IT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD!”

I descended into one of my unintelligible beast growls that grows into a conquering scream that my wife says always makes her sweat for me. Stream after stream of my best A-grade jizz shot through my pulsing cock and into my wife’s delicious cunt. My body convulsed, as I roared. My wife’s nails dug into my butt cheeks, alternately pulling them apart and squeezing them together. The floor-length sheers blew silently with the breeze through the open French doors, brushing my naked ass, as it pumped and clenched in the rhythm of orgasmic ecstasy.

I collapsed on top of my wife and nestled my head into her neck. I caressed her sides, then slipped my hands under her back and massaged just above her butt. Her skin, so smooth, so soft, always draws me closer to her.

“Why didn’t I let you finish me off with your mouth?” I whispered.

“Because I needed you to take me,” she replied, with a grin.

“I’m up for taking you anytime, anywhere,” I answered back. I rolled off her and sat up on the bed.

“I want to see more,” she said.

“More of me?” I wondered, seizing my cock with satisfaction, feeling it stiffen again, and standing up with a smile.

“Later, you animal. I mean I want to get outside and see some more of this town.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I saluted and then slapped her ass. I pulled on my cargo shorts, my dick still semi-erect and wet with her cum and mine. I put on a T-shirt, too, and my Converse black-and-whites. I left the scent of our love-making dried on my stubbled face, unobserved but pungent.

She darted into the bathroom, came out and slipped into leggings, with an eye-catching shoulders-exposed floral print top. I took her by the hand, and we walked out the door and onto the street. I thought she was perfect for the fashion-filled sidewalk.

We stood at the top of the Spanish Steps. I held her there and gave her a deep kiss as the red tile roof-tops, church steeples, and the occasional basilica dome etched the horizon below. Audrey Hepburn never looked better than did my wife in that moment. Neither did the city.

There’s no place like Rome. October 2018.