Chapter 3: Sweet Lovers' Throne

Convulsing, Monica collapsed upon the bedspread. Only now did her irises roll at last into the back of her head. Her bare breasts were heaving like a bellows for every gulp of air, and she dazedly lifted a hand to her own throat, stunned. How had she made that sound? How had Chandler, of all people, gotten her to make that sound?

She felt the man belly flop on top of her naked and tingling spine, which by now had damn near turned to jelly. Through how her ears were now ringing, Monica could hear him roaring in triumph.

He didn't keep her pinned for long, lest he crush her, and when he rolled off of her, Monica lethargically crawled the last few inches to the top of the headboard, feeling as though she could sink into the mattress. It was only their second round, and while she still wasn't exhausted, she was supremely satiated. It was almost an out-of-body experience, how gooey she felt. She may have been the one to knock on his door, but it was Chandler who had brought her here, to the seat of sweet lovers' throne. The throne of lovers. The heights of pleasure, in this bed, this kingdom, where all must pay homage to lovemaking.

It dawned on Monica at this moment, that she had come here for one purpose and one alone: since the moment Chandler had first asked her, incredulously, "Who wouldn't want you?" she had needed him with her. She had needed him, Chandler, to want her. To prove that he was among the 'Who' to which he had referred. Not Joey – in her despairing, drunken insecurity, that had been a front. To achieve what she needed, Monica had thought she could put in the bare minimum of effort to get it, and with Joey, she would have. Except Joey wouldn't have been able to give her what she wanted. Joey would never have left her satisfied, panting and begging for still more.

Monica now felt a calloused and strong hand softly cup her cheek, turn it back. And then Chandler's lips were on hers and he was kissing her deeply, and she melted into it with a purr. When they sensuously broke apart, he looked concerned.

"Are you all right?"

Dumbly, she nodded.

Chandler let out a little half-chuckle, almost abashed. "I'm sorry; I don't know what came over me…"

"Don't you dare apologize," Monica told him firmly, though her voice was soft. Her smile was radiant. "You're…. you're incredible…."

Chandler swooned, flinging himself down at Monica's side. Turning his head on the pillow, he grinned at her with such tenderness that for one, mad moment Monica thought he would actually do it. He was actually going to say that he loved her.

He didn't, which didn't surprise her. It didn't even disappoint her…. too much. Monica knew the man – after only two rounds in the sack with her, he wouldn't have been ready to take that step.

Monica could see how Chandler was exhausted – unsurprising, considering that he had spent two rounds doing all the work. Grinning impishly, she now rolled over, swinging her long and creamy thighs over his hips as she moved to straddle him.

Chandler gazed up at her, transfixed. "Monica….?"

"Sssssh….." She rested a finger against his lips. "Rest, my sweet. It's my turn to make love to you…."

Chandler gawked at her, ogling. Shivering with delight.

"What…. what are you going to do….?" he moaned.

Stretching herself out over his body, Monica kissed Chandler tenderly, beaming at him. "I'm going to make love to you. The old-fashioned way."

"Missionary?" Chandler's eyes lit up. It was the classic style, and his preferred method.

"Uh-huh. Let's just…. go slow…" She smirked. "We can make it a cool-down."

She regally enthroned herself on his member, which came to life once more in her warmth, sinking into her wetness. Caressing his face, Monica bent and softly kissed him, letting her lips stroke his.

She parted hers with a hum and granted a stupefied Chandler entrance. Their tongues dueled, but not viciously. Feeling his arms encircle her back, Chandler and Monica, still kissing, clasped each other close and rolled about on the bed. Their joined bodies wriggled softly together. Monica rubbed herself against him, feeling Chandler inside her, how he engorged and thus stretched her. Their kisses remained lazy, languorous. If Chandler thrust at all, he did so tenderly. Both of them wanted to savor this. To savor the moment.

When Monica finally came with a choke, it was so simultaneously soft and abrupt that she almost didn't notice. Still weakened from Round 2, Chandler remained a long way off from achieving his own completion, and he lifted his eyes to his love sheepishly.

"I…. I can't get there…."

Monica took pity on him. "Let me help…." She cooed.

Crawling down the length of his body, she felt Chandler slide out of her flooded folds. His cock, though still erect, was weakening without the pressure of moving about inside her.

Monica studied what made her lover a man as though she was greeting an old friend. By now, it was almost as if she was. Grinning deviously, she suddenly reared forward, puckering her lips, and she gently took Chandler in her mouth.

The moment her lips sealed around his foreskin, Chandler went rigid with shock upon the bed. "Monica….." he grunted.

Monica savored her name on his tongue. Not once since they had leapt into bed together had he called her by her pet name – 'Mon' – and she found that she rather preferred this. In such a profound act as having sex, weighted with meaning, the invocation of her nickname would more than likely have taken her out of the moment, or worse, make her think of how Joey almost had a Jamaican accent whenever he said it. Monica didn't want to think about Joey now, except to hope that he wouldn't be coming back from doing that bridesmaid anytime soon.

Surging forward to suck him deeper, Monica curled her fist along the base of Chandler's shaft. Her palms cupped his balls in the same way she might bring water to her lips if no glass was to be had.

Chandler had given her oral sex, and talentedly. It was high time for her to return the favor, in order to get him off. Besides, in doing this, she would be helping out a friend. Though from how she now gazed at him, up the length of his body, through lidded eyes, Monica was starting to conclude that 'friend' no longer did justice in describing what Chandler was to her.

She gargled as she suddenly felt Chandler's fingers weaving into her midnight dark tresses as he muttered an oath from somewhere above her. He held her skull in place, his nails digging down to the roots, hard enough to pinch. This only succeeded in turning on and spurning on Monica more.

She lolled out her tongue, the better to extend her oral touch and lick the upper reaches of his shaft. When the tip of Monica's tongue massaged Chandler's balls, his back arched and his pelvis nearly levitated off the bed. He was humping her face now, bucking almost violently, all the while giving the most musical cries of her name.

"Oh, Monica!... Monica…"

Monica's puckered lips, still filled with cock, curled around his stalk into a satisfied smile, forming a kind of 'O', and she drew him in deeper still.

"MONICA!"

Chandler exploded in Monica's mouth, his cum bursting out onto her tongue, coating her throat and he jizzed deep into her esophagus. Monica merely gulped down the warm and sticky substance like the good little girl she was. Every last drop of it.

When she at last released him, and sat back on her haunches to admire her handiwork, the only sign that she had been with him was a pink, smudged ring of her lipstick around his quickly softening, flabby member.