“Careful. I’m about to cum,” I gasp out and she launches back.
“Oh, um sorry. It’s pretty.” She’s making a commentary?
“My cock?” I laugh because no one has ever called it pretty.
My guy is a thick, veiny, heavy-balled beast. At full erection, I’m about seven and a half inches, not the biggest man to sport a woody, but most women struggle to take me, so I know I can give it like a nine inches ... for sure.
“Yes. It’s soft and has a beautiful shape.” Is she assessing me like a building? I feel a little analyzed.
“Well, it’s good at what it likes best. How about you lean back and let me kiss you?” I give her an evil little grin as I flip her back onto the bed and kiss her tits like she did mine. I’m ready to get my mouth on her before I cum like a madman.
She giggles and I look into her eyes.
“I need to get this off, you good?”
She stares at me, her look begging for something, kindness, dignity, and then she relents.
“I’m good.” She’s made some deal with herself and so I quickly undress her, pulling off her top and bottoms to see the most perfect pair of tits I’ve ever beheld and a trimmed little pussy that fucking screams for me to get on it.
“I can kiss you, right?” I ask for consent one more time because she seems very timid now that the tables have been turned.
“Yes.” she gives me consent again and I kiss her on the lips, to reassure her.
“Just tell me to stop and I will,” I say with a smile, feeling that she was happier about this arrangement when she was in charge. “You are, by the way, and I mean this sincerely, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’ve been with hundreds, not something I’m proud of, and you, by far, stand out. For many reasons, not just your beauty. I know how lucky I am to be here right now, okay? The fact that you and I are here having fun is something I will treasure and never will forget. You aren’t a notch on my bedpost; you're a memory I’ll take with me to the grave.” I didn’t mean to be morbid, but she needs to know I’m not taking her for granted.
“I feel like you say that to everyone,” she says, allowing a moment of vulnerability.
“You would. I haven’t painted myself as being a very nice guy, but I have no way of telling you other than to just tell you. I’m going to treasure this time with you.” I kiss her lips again, unable to get enough of her.
“Okay,” she breathes a sigh of relief and I kiss my way down her body, scooping her beautiful tits in my mouth, sucking each nipple as I swirl my tongue around the buds that taste like clean skin. My cock is oozing at this point and so I get to the good stuff probably more quickly than I would and spread her legs so I can gaze upon the prettiest pussy in the world.
I don’t always find a woman’s cunt beautiful. Interesting, yes, a fun playground to dive into, always, but never pretty in terms of proportions and placement of parts, but Juliet is a Renoir. Her pussy is soft, pink, symmetrical, the little opening just peeks through her swollen cunt, waiting for me to makemy move. I lick her once and she giggles, I suck and nibble and dive my tongue in and the woman writhes on my face, panting, shivering, pitching into my mouth. She is ready for me, so I lift off of her and position myself as I have with so many women before her.
“Can I?” I ask breathless, ready, tasting like her ...
“Oh, my God,” she whispers and I’m already at her entrance, nudging forward, waiting for the last go ahead.
“Am I good to go here?” I ask one more time, and she closes her eyes ... squeezes them shut actually and I have an idea what’s about to happen and yet ... no.
“Okay,” she says, with her eyes shut.
“You sure, love? You seem a little tense.”
“No. I’m good, let’s do this.” She opens her eyes and smiles and so I press in and ...
“Merde ... mon dieu.” Just what I thought. Fuck.
Chapter Five
Juliet
“I’m good, I’m good,” I say to myself like a mantra.
Marcel, the smoldering hot divorcee who is about to take my virginity stops then curses in French.
“Juliet, you’re not ... are you?” he looks at me and asks with urgency.
“I’m sorry,” I don’t know why, but I burst into tears. “I’m sorry. I should have said something. I was going to say no, but it felt so good and you’re good, I mean you’re not a mean guy and I know it’s just airplane sex and we’ll never see each other again and you don’t date and are a Grinch ...” I am full on babbling through my tears.
