Like a Fox on the Run, стр. 129
He felt her reach for the back of his thigh, gripping it, urging him deeper, just like she’d done countless times before. It seemed like centuries now. He suddenly realized how much he’d missed her touch, being inside her, holding her to him, oh so tight. How could I have been such a damned fool to lose this?
“God, Tiger,” she whimpered as she felt another orgasm rushing upon her like a volcano erupting. She threw her arms around his neck, holding tight as if some powerful entity were about to rip her from his grasp. “Oh God, baby!”
Sensing her climax at hand, he sped up, helping her along. He moved up high on her pelvis, his rigid manhood moving in an almost vertical position. This forced it into almost constant contact with her sensitive pink nub. She shuddered violently, uncontrollably, the pleasure too intense to handle, leaving her mouth agape and unable to speak. All the while, he continued to pound her incessantly. She gave herself to him in total submission, throwing her arms back over her head, offering her body to him, a living sacrifice for him to take as he saw fit. The two small, neatly trimmed pit patches underneath her arms were now soaked with sweat, and he couldn’t resist running his nose through one, taking in the musky, salty scent of her.
It was now his turn.
“Cum for me, baby!” She looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading, her voice demanding, unapologetic in her wanton desire. She arched her hips up into him obscenely. “Please! I need to feel it inside me! I want to feel you running out of me the rest of the day!”
It was something he’d heard many times before during their time together as young lovers. It was like hearing an old song he hadn’t heard in years, the familiar nostalgia upon hearing those first few chords, taking him back to an earlier time and place. She knew exactly what to say to push him over the edge. He growled, back deep in his throat, raw, primal, a lusty animalistic grunt, as he felt the first twinge of that feeling that felt like nothing else. He sat back up, grabbing for her waist. Using her hips like guides, he pulled her pelvis hard into him as he met her with almost desperate thrusts. He looked down, taking in that glorious, curvy body, breasts wobbling up and down in rhythm to their gyrations. Time, maturity, and motherhood had changed her so profoundly over the past decade. The tender flower of youth had matured into a strong, fertile garden of womanhood. He could never remember being more turned on in his life. Not even by the chemical inducements of a sultry vixen made to quench the desires of the carnal.
“Would you rather cum on my belly,” she teased him, running her hands over her creamy, white abdomen. They then slid like choreographed dancers up under those heavy breasts, cupping them for presentation to him. “Or would you rather paint these white?”
“Ohhh, damn Lulah!” he groaned as he allowed himself one too many mental images of the possibilities she was proposing. “No fair!”
“Yessss!” she exclaimed in ultimate triumph as he threw his head back and roared, and the feeling of unbridled pleasure surged through him and into her. She closed her eyes dreamily relishing in the warm, wetness of his seed suddenly in her.
Oh God, that feels good again after all these years!
Spent and drenched in sweat, he collapsed on top of her, like a discarded marionette. She put her arms around him, holding him close, almost childlike, as his fading erection continued to pulsate inside her. She knew without a doubt, that if she could, she would freeze this moment in time forever. Every feeling, every emotion, every sight, scent and sound. She never wanted to let it go. For once she did, it would be lost forever.
She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut as tightly as she could. She would only open them when she absolutely had to.
She was tired of losing things.
Epilogue
Lulah held Tiger in her arms until exhaustion finally overtook him and he gave up the fight. He slept heavily now, snoring loudly like a man does when his tanks are empty and he’s running on fumes. She now lay nestled into his side, leg thrown over his. Her head rested on his chest, listening to his heart beat, pondering everything that had occurred in the last twenty-four hours, wondering now what the future would hold.
As she lay there, the scent of his sweat and cologne on her body, the mixture of their combined fluids still slick between her legs, she worried less about the creature sleeping over in her house. She felt confident she had her man back. The vixen might have four tits, an ass to die for and the body of a centerfold; she might be exotic, she might be sensual … she might have those synthetic airborne aphrodisiacs Tiger had described. Deep down, she knew he’d probably succumbed to them. As much as it stung, she couldn’t hold that against him. Besides it didn’t matter now.
What the vixen didn’t have was her man lying in bed beside her. He was here now, spent from their lovemaking. The long, winding road of life had finally brought him back to her door, her bed. They had history. They had chemistry. They had love.
What did she have that could compare to that?
***
His eyelids fluttered open, and consciousness slowly crept back to