Catwoman 25
Our wedding party had all dispersed back to their lives for our honeymoon. The only ones on the property besides us were the servants. We were to spend one more night here at Carlisle and Esme's, then leave for our official honeymoon in the Virgin Islands.
We had so much to learn about one another. The morning after our wedding, we awoke incubating in one another's arms. I remembered this slow, delicious episode of sex during the night, me awakening first to pull up the covers, him taking that as a cue to have more sex. From a dead sleep he was instantly awake. He slept light apparently. His gentle hands roamed over me, this way of touching that left me feeling drawn or molded as he moved over me with discovery, the same weighing and realization again and again, swell of breasts, protrusion of nipples, oh these nipples, bigger than he knew, darker, looking at him, stomach, center of stomach, fingers in every declevity, soft, skin, slick, silk, hair, bare. Rubbing with his long fingers, gifted, generous fingers, frenzied on me, bringing me to frenzy, paralyzing me, my back arched, suspended in this ecstacy. Four times easy. "You're like an Olympian," he whispered. "You are so inspiring," I said.
Then the hot plunge from behind. "Oh yeah," me purring.
"You purr," he says, so proud, "a new side of Catwoman."
"Fuck you," I say, another climax, going for the gold.
"Okay," he agrees, slipping in from behind. Breath so warm in my ear, that alone setting me off in another wave as he pumped into me, muttering, moaning, jerking his hips, coming apart, but staying in me, falling asleep there.
So now, in the morning, we've come apart, but he's hard. I lift the covers and look. He's so beautiful, this chest and tight stomach, navel, dark hair, penis with the head carved like Darth Vader. I smile. I'm so appreciative. He's been so cared for, but he's strong, and his body is…his hips and legs, I love his feet. A keeper.
His eyes are closed but he bucks his hips a little, and I take hold of him and stroke him, and his legs stiffen and he sucks air between clenched teeth, so I give him the first hand job from me. Yeah, it's sweet, and he teaches me how to start slow, move up to the helmet. I tell him the Darth Vader thing and he laughs, but he grimaces too, because he's led me to quicken the pace, and I get it. Power of recall. So I take great pleasure in having this power to touch him and love him and bring him so much pleasure and turn him to jelly as I watch him climax and release the jam that holds the swimmers we'll need someday to start a family. I giggle when he's ridden the wave. His eye pops open. He immediately helps my nipples out, feeling that responsibility of them looking at him and him responding like, "I'm here, guys." I even take the tissues from the nightstand and clean him off. And I tell him I'm practicing for our old age, and we make a few jokes about how saggy his balls will be, and he pulls on my boob, and I tell him there's surgery. But not ball surgery which makes us both get quiet because we've somehow moved the topic to breast cancer and prostate cancer, but that only lasts a split second because I'm married, and fucked royally, and loved, and so damn happy.
As we board the flight that will take us to the Islands, I realize how sore I am. Edward had rubbed soothing oil between my legs, which led to yet another climax, but he'd put the oil there, but I was still moving like a…whore.
Let's face it, awakened love meant I'd been boinked six ways to Sunday. I was surfer girl, I'd ridden every wave that ocean, or Edward had coughed up. Orgasm had been my natural state. Any other state like eating (food), reading, watching TV, had been the minute exception. I'd had one long climax since entering Esme's guesthouse, one long feast on Edward Cullen, and I had the swollen privates to prove it. However, the only one I was willing to prove it to was Edward, who had sympathetically put on the oil and fucked me again.
He was a human sex toy. Mine only. There was no body part of his that didn't have a natural inclination for how to rub on one of mine in just the right way to make me a grunting idiot with sole purpose—orgasm. If I wasn't getting one, I was giving one. We rutted. And we were so good at it. I wondered how we'd stay apart long enough to make this trip. We hadn't wanted to leave Esme's. That guesthouse would forever be our own personal aphrodisiac. If ever we got to a place where the fire ebbed, a place I didn't foresee ever reaching, but if ever we did, all we'd have to do was enter that guesthouse and we'd be fornicating like hyenas.
I loved Edward's flesh. I held his hand now. All we did was glance at one another, just a simple quick look and we were doing it in our minds. I was mentally orgasming right now just looking at his throat and the way his Adam's apple just bobbed. He looked at me again. The stewardess said something and I said, "yes," just to get rid of her, but I had no idea what she'd asked. She brought me a Sprite, a blanket and some peanuts. Edward and I had a good laugh, but then we were gazing at one another again, and he was kissing my knuckles, and now those lips, oh, I had known nothing about them before. What those lips could do, those teeth, and that tongue, that tongue, that tongue, I was crossing my legs and squeezing those worn horny sore bits between my legs right now. I spread the blanket, and his hand was immediately there. My hand was immediately there. We were covering one another's infrared heat sources. We were saying, "I got this. You hear me? I got this." Treasure hunters.
And let me tell you about the focus thing, the ADHD autism thing. As a lover…hands on learner and riveted, riveted to the task. You get an ADHD man's attention, and it is ridiculous what he will give in return.
Yeah, burning green eyes on a plane. Laptops at our feet, forgotten. I'm staring at his face, and it is my vista. I am hypnotized, really not here, he is my moment, my present, my reality. I have spent my life caring about everything else. Now there's only him.