Her second orgasm unexpectedly occurred when her pussy suddenly clamped down on my invading prick. Hearing her scream into the pillow, a stream of hot cum shot up through my stem, causing the tip of my cock to explode. A load of hot seed spurt out, bathing the back of her pussy. Each blast of hot cum I shot into her resulted in another contraction from her convulsing cavern.
I slowly fucked her after our mutual orgasms finished, relishing in the blissful connection we had just shared. Crestfallen that the session was already over, I hoped we weren’t successful again.
Both of us breathed hard and fast while we recovered from the intense fuck. Panting, I managed to spout, “You are so sexy. I know it’s selfish of me, but in a way, I hope you’re not pregnant again.”
I pulled out, leaving her ass uncovered while I backed up. My eyes traveled from her cum-filled pussy down her creamy smooth thighs to her delicate feet.
The sheet went flying off. Suddenly, Snow White flipped around and flopped onto the bed. Still staring at her legs, she spoke in a sexy French accent. “No hope is necessary. I’m pretty sure you impregnated me last session. This time was for you.”
I recognized her voice. I quickly looked up. “Monica?”
“Yes, Sam. Come to me, my love,” she cooed, her arms open. I lowered down to her, melding my body to hers.
She stroked my scalp while memories flashed back to me.
*****
It was my last year in our old neighborhood. I loved walking back and forth to the school, located a mile from our house. Each day my route passed by a preschool halfway between our home and my school.
On one of those days, I ran across a couple of bullies teasing and tormenting a young girl outside the preschool. I broke it up and continued to walk home. I noticed the girl they harassed followed me for a few blocks before I lost sight of her.
Days after this incident, the same girl would wait by the school for me to pass and then follow me. I didn’t think anything of it; she was probably using me to stop the kids from picking on her. After a couple of weeks of this routine, I noticed she went up a walkway to a large house with large bushes on both sides. One day when I walked by, I spotted a woman wearing Muslim attire inside the entrance of the hidden walkway. When I passed, she quietly whispered, “Excuse me, Sir. Could I talk to you?”
I stopped, unsure if she would accuse me of trying to lure the girl or what. I uneasily responded, “Um, sure. Anything wrong?”
“Please follow me, and I’ll explain,” she said as she went up to the house and waited for the girl and me to enter. After we were inside, she removed the covering on her head, revealing her beautiful face. She told her daughter to sit at the table with me. She had a French accent, unlike what I expected from her attire.
She introduced herself as Monica and her daughter as Camila before she went to the kitchen and brought out a plate of warm cookies and two glasses of milk. She set them down in front of us and sat opposite us at the table.
Camila picked up a cookie and devoured it. Monica smiled and told me she was grateful for me protecting her daughter. Kids harassed her because they knew she was a child of a Muslim family. Her French accent intrigued me while I listened to her talk. When Camila finished, Monica told her to go to her room and play.
After taking a bite out of the delicious cookie, I felt a bump on my leg. Looking down, I eyed a beautiful, short-haired, black cat walking around my legs. I lifted the friendly kitty off the floor and placed her on my lap. She curled and purred while I petted her. I knew where to scratch her neck and head to give her the attention she wanted.
I asked, “And who is this cute girl? I love cats. Her fur is soft and sleek.”
Monica smiled wide and said, “Her name is Dinah. She likes a lot of attention. My husband hates cats.”
That was the first indication she wasn’t on board with her marriage. She kept a cat her husband hated, and the cat’s name was of Jewish origin. That couldn’t have set well with her Muslim husband.
Unwilling to further explain the details concerning her cat, she informed me she wanted to thank me earlier, but her husband was home, and she couldn’t talk to another man with him present. He was doing business in the Middle East now; she seized the opportunity to thank me.
She originated from France and married her wealthy husband at eighteen when she was pregnant with Camila. She admitted she was naive and easily influenced by the prestige and money afforded her. Even though their love was brief, she remained with him, honoring her obligation. She wasn’t religious, but she made an effort to observe some of the Muslim rules to satisfy her husband.
We talked for over an hour, getting acquainted with each other. Marrying young to a wealthy Middle Eastern businessman allowed her to attend private colleges. I found her to be intelligent and educated while we discussed our lives. She inquired about my studies, and we talked at length. She was witty and injected humor into our conversation, causing us to laugh through much of our talk. Sex didn’t enter my mind while I connected with the highly educated and charming young lady.
For the next six months, we met dozens of times on my walks home when her husband was out of town. We spent hours together, giggling and talking, while I pampered Dinah with my affection. I enjoyed the time with Monica, feeling at ease with her pleasant demeanor. I looked forward to walking home, hoping she’d be waiting for me. Her daughter still kept her distance, following me home each day.
Concerned that Camila might mention my visits to her father, I asked Monica whether there would be a problem if her daughter disclosed my visits. She told me her husband never wanted a daughter and wouldn’t talk or listen to her. She isolated Camila from him as much as possible, and they were experts at keeping secrets.