I break out of the sixty-nine and position myself so I’m facing her again, laughingly saying hello to her as we engage in more kissing and caressing. I get the biggest kick out of hugs, and she reciprocates even more. There’s a lot of kisses placed on her forehead. Making her feel safe is what matters to me. She must discern, at this point, how attached I am.
While I’m facing her, my dick has easily entered her again, and I study every one of her reactions to my thrusts. My heart bursts when she says she loves me, and I say it this time, too. She closes her eyes and looks so satisfied at this moment. I gently move my dick around in the best places for her inside, and ask her if she enjoys the sensation, because that’s just one example of how I feel about her. She moans, nods, closes her eyes, opens them again, and concentrates some more. I need her to react to me.
These moments cause me to stop and wonder. Why am I like this? I can go from hooking up with the men in my rotation to enjoying this woman as if she’s been my wife for decades and not even bat an eyelash about it. Maybe the answer is biological. I’m a male animal, and she’s my mate.
I’m all the way on top of her now. She’s grabbing my sizable ass, complimenting me on all the hard work I do around the property to make it rock-hard. I reward her with a really good thrust, tracing a line from where I think her spot is straight up to the edge of her cervix. She’s leaning her head back and I’m licking up the front of her neck. A moan escapes from her as she says she’s my wife and she belongs to me. I nod at her. That’s exactly the way she’d better think of it. She’s in my world. The lure of the city, with all that sophistication and money, melts away when she’s got a man who wants to take her over completely. This is what matters in life. We can do what we want to, and need to, out here.
My eyes are closed. I’m sort of going off again. I speak of the long shadows under that sky at sunset, the call of the coyotes, the freezing winter wind and bracing summer sun. I’ve got her out here with me. She has all the space she needs to think. I’m speaking in between kisses and perfectly timed insertions and removals of my cock. She is letting out small squeals. Her mind seems to be going a million miles an hour. She says she’s been dreaming of this place after I described it to her. I respond that it’s not just a dream anymore.
We are locked in a kiss, our tongues and lips sliding around each other. She sticks hers out and I gently take it into my mouth as she grips my shaved head. The contrast is spellbinding. Bald, long hair. Taller, shorter. Hairy, smooth. Masculine, feminine.
I take more aggressive control with her head in my hands, reminding her she belongs to me. I thrust again and ask if she felt that in her wet, sloppy pussy, and she nods. Then I do it a slightly different way as I study her face some more. I watch how her eyelashes shift and how her breathing changes. Now that she’s nice and relaxed with some good dick buried up in her, I can lay out what’s going to change between us going forward. I tell her that she’s been fucking herself, rubbing her clit and fingering her vagina, blasting herself with wands and dildos, but she’s still so empty inside. She can hit up her contact list for a guy who only wants her pussy, or she can have this experience every day of her life with a man she desires from her innermost being. If she’s going to do this bullshit, it’s fine by me, because I’m on my own path and always have been. We can be here for decades playing this game with each other. She knows how I flood her cunt so my hormones straighten her out, then she leaves for a while and needs my dick again in a couple of months after dealing with those men in the city. She keeps apologizing. Good; she needs to be sorry. Something has to give, and I’m going to keep pushing. I know where this is headed towards.
The pummeling really starts. The bed is creaking and shaking, at times slamming into its foundation with a thud. I have one arm around her neck and with my other hand, I’m grabbing the metal railing at the head. I’ve created a palpable sense that we’re not in the role-play anymore. She’s completely trapped and loves it. I’m putting it all on the line now. I’m almost there, as I can sense what she’s yearning to say to me. I need that one opening.
My penis rams against her innards. I can feel the slime, the wetness, and the silkiness, all as if it’s spinning in a whirlpool. Her moaning is so insistent. She tells me to keep going. It is another entrapment of mine. The chess pieces are moving on the board again; a man’s turn alternating with a woman’s. Obvious, subtle. Logical, emotional. A soft, manicured hand moves one piece. A calloused, hairy hand moves the other. My heart and gut are beaming all of their energy at her to say the words. The climax begins.
She screams that she wants to have my child and wants me to marry her. That’s it. I got her.
Then I yell at her not to move one fucking inch as I pound my seed deep, drenching her reproductive system. Every crevice is full of male fluid. My arms have her in a vice grip around her shoulders. Our sweat mixes. Mine drips down my ass, beads on my back, comes off of my brow. Hers glistens, accepting mine as it almost rains down. With the last spasms, my ejaculation is complete, and I’m able to remove myself, agonizingly dragging my cock out as she arches her body again from the stimulation.
We both lie on our sides. Instinct takes over and I rub her pussy, then bring my fingers to my nose. It smells right. I smear the mix of fluids onto my lips and beard, and repeat these actions. Then I reach under my drenched balls and rub the smelly sweat onto her face. I do the same with my ripe armpits.
I tell her I own her. She needs to cooperate. Do what I say. Listen to me. Life is very simple. Sit, stand, lie horizontal, a couple of other fun positions once in a while (we both laugh at that). If she does these things with me, we’ll both be in a universe of contentment. Stuff will just come right out of the ether to us.
She says she understands and that she loves me. We hug protectively. Later on, our shower together turns into a drawn-out embrace as the water pours down. The steam is all around us and I’m holding her from behind, completely enraptured by, and absorbed in, my desire for her. I provide aftercare and checking-in, especially since this was a rough session for her. She enjoys how everything has gone and is fine with it continuing, so that’s cool. Before we go to sleep, I change out the sheets. She brought a satin nightie for the cold, so I put on a pair of flannel pajama pants in order to be tasteful myself. We snap a selfie and I caption it about us being ready for bedtime, then I send it to her. We’re smiling at the camera, my bicep framing her shoulders as she feels my chest hair. There’s a knowing look in our eyes.
As with every night we’ve spent together, it’s a fun sleepover with my best friend. We talk for a long while in bed as the desert moonlight pours in through the large window. She’s up against my chest, my arm around her, both of us looking at the ceiling. Periods of conversation alternate with long, loving bouts of kissing. I get more mouthfuls of her titties, too, and she gets her nightie off for easier access. She’s grinding on my dick through the pajama pants, so those need to be removed, too. So much for us ever wearing any clothes to bed.