Alyona

I can feel her standing over me, watching me dozing in the big comfy chair, indistinct noise from the television disrupting the quiet of the icy, wet afternoon.

“Are you watching that?” her voice splits the air like thunder, my eyes spring open to see her standing in front of me, long golden blond hair cascading over her face, shimmering in the flickering light from the television in the background.

“No, not really,” I mumble, stretch my legs out in front of me, my arms over my head, my eyes strain to focus on her.

Running her fingers through her hair she drags long blond locks away revealing brilliant blue eyes twinkling in the frigid gray light. “Well, then”—she begins to unbutton her thick, red plaid flannel shirt.

My little buddy is already springing to life, pressing against the confines of his boxers and blue jeans.  I glance around the room, wondering if I’m dreaming, pause to peer through the window at gently falling snow accumulating on thin branches of a naked tree outside.

One-by-one she slowly unbuttons her heavy flannel shirt until, at last, she strips it from her shoulders to reveal small, firm breasts and their little rosebud nipples.  My little buddy surges with excitement, pressing hard against his now tight confinement.  Moving on she unbuttons her faded jeans, peels them and accompanying white panties off her hips, lets them fall along with the shirt to the floor around her bare ankles, so now she’s standing in front of me, allowing me admire her pale-ivory, naked body.

Long golden-blond hair frames her soft heart shaped face, her sparkling-blue eyes glinting into my steely-gray eyes, a delicate little turned-up nose sits atop plump rosy lips and delicate, narrow chin.  Soft shoulders carry small round breasts and long slender arms that descend to delicate hands.  A narrow waist widens to full, round, feminine hips, a gentle rise from her thin middle cascades to a neatly groomed strip of dark hair concealing the narrow cleft between her thighs.  Smooth slender legs and dainty feet hold her smooth ivory body above me.

She gazes at me in anticipation while I slowly study her delightful feminine form: delicate pale completion—winters frigid darkness fading all reminders of summers blazing sunshine on tender naked skin—small but firm breasts and their little rosy nipples; wisps of dark and neatly trimmed hair blanketing the junction between her legs—I can’t help but stare at the union between her thighs under the gentle swell of her abdomen.  My little buddy anxiously awaits his freedom, anticipating the plunge he knows must be coming.  She folds her arms across her thin torso, casts her hip out and stares at me impatiently as if to say, “Are you going to undress, or just sit there like a fool?”

Slowly I tug at my jeans, unfasten the button holding the waist band together, unzip the fly.  Pulling my shirt out of the way I reveal my thin, pasty stomach, then peel away the jeans and strip my boxers to release my long, hard, erect little buddy.

Hardly a moment passes until she steps out of the clothes laying on the floor, straddles my legs and steps close to me.  “Scoot down a little,” she impatiently demands—she knows I love it when she takes charge of me during sex—I slouch in the big soft chair until my butt end is almost hanging off the cushion.  Using her knees to press my legs tightly together she kneels in the chair on either side of me, sliding her shins between my thighs and the soft arms of the chair so she hovers over me.

Grasping my stiff little buddy in one hand, spreading the lips covering her love center with the other, she lowers herself onto him until his pink mushroom head is nestled between swelling labia at her entry.  She must have been thinking about this for quite a while because she’s slippery wet, well lubricated, ready to take him in.  A warm glow from deep inside me radiates throughout, little electric shocks race from my core to my extremities, causing my hands and feet to tingle with excitement.  Slowly she rolls her hips from side to side, gently descending, allowing him to penetrate her, stopping once to to ascend slightly, then gingerly plunging again until she settles, taking all of him in.

She moans softly, closes her eyes, rolls her head from side to side while she embraces him—I can feel his swollen head pressing against the soft wet flesh deep inside her.  Reaching out to caress her hips and shoulders, knead the supple flesh of her breasts, she takes my arms by their wrists, pins them on the arm of the chair, “Stop—just relax,” she orders breathlessly, “I’m trying to concentrate.” I do exactly as she demands, wondering what she must be concentrating on.

Leaning forward, she braces herself against the soft cushion on the back of the chair, gently begins to thrust her pelvis into mine.  Hot waves wash over me as she pushes and pulls her slippery wet love canal over my now excitedly energized little buddy, causing waves like hot water to wash over me, little shocks like subtle electric currents to electrify every nerve in me. “Slowly—I’m going to come,” I warn, too soon, I think, I feel my climax approaching.

“So, come,” she whispers acceptingly, but in defiance I relax my body, clear my mind, pretend to float like a snowflake in the bitter cold winter air in a vain attempt to prolong the memory.

Now she’s found the perfect spot over my pubic bone to grind her clit and increases the tempo of her thrusting, pressing herself down harder, even painfully, onto me.  Regardless of my desire to prolong our coupling, I know I’m rapidly approaching the point of no return and grown a warning of the coming rush of sticky seamen into her.  “Come,” she grunts in acceptance of my inevitable orgasm, then changes her thrusting, sliding herself up and down onto me, pumping me harder and faster until at last I clench her hips, push and hold myself deep inside as blinding spasms race through me, forcing thick rushes of sticky cum into her wet and waiting pussy.

White hot electric spasms shock me while my right hand vigorously pumps my swollen cock and rushes of thick, white goo surges from the little slit opening in his swollen mushroom like head, until the last globs of the oozing goo pools on my pale abdomen.

I close my eyes and remember fondly love long since lost until cool air chills wet skin.  Eventually retuning to the present, frigid, gray afternoon, the ephemeral image of the lovely girl sitting on top of me dissolves into the flickering light of the television, and the groaning, moaning, squelching remembrance of passionate sex long ago is replaced by indistinct chatter. 

I slide my fingers over slimy seamen pooling on my abdomen, several long ropes of the sticky goo reaching my shirt still covering my chest.  My lust is now nothing more than a slimy mess to clean up before the queen returns and the house becomes a hive of activity again.  I lost her love long ago, but I’m always grateful for my memories of her, and time alone to indulge my fantasies.