“Helicopter,” he said. I looked at him and gasped as I noticed his position on me. I cannot imagine.
“God, Ismael! You are insane!” I yelled as I felt tremendous pleasure from this odd position.
“Just trust me.”
His hands remained focused on the bed, while his feet remained elevated. Shit. This is really awkward. What is going through Ismael’s mind while he is doing this? He’s gotten overly passionate about being a man of one word. I still regret urging him to act his age. I have to be careful what I say to him since he takes everything too seriously.
I watched and grinned as a peculiar emotion washed over me. I can’t deny that I appreciate what he does with me more. I am ashamed to confess it, but I enjoy it.
“Ahhhh… Ismael… You are too deep. Ahhh…”
“Are you liking it?” he asked, invading my hot privates.
“I am… But isn’t it too tiring?”
“I’m fine, baby.” But I could hear his deep breathing in the middle of his speech. Even his loud groans indicate that he experiences a distinct type of delight.
I felt my flesh twitch. This is because I have had enough of his shovel. I am about to cum again. The taste makes me feel as if I’m about to die.
I gripped the cushion as my body stiffened, and the secretions from my hole disappeared. I quickly grew weak and fell down. I let Ismael do some thrusts until he came inside me.
It was really slippery, and he swiftly removed it from me. I simply bit my lip, closing my eyes in shame. I never imagined we could do it together. What else is there for me if we both marry? It appears that we will fulfill all of his wishes.
I lie down to breathe more easily, but I can’t since Ismael licked the middle of my thighs. It’s as if he’s scraping my juice. Shit. I can’t convey how high I’m feeling right now as a result of what we tasted. Nobody informed me how delicious heaven tastes in Europe. This is absurd, and I’m out of words to describe it. Children should not hear all the words that come to mind.
“Ismael…” I called him.
“Hmm?”
“Come here,” I said. “I’ll return the favor.” I’m not sure where I found the courage to say that. It was like when he performed a miracle in his private pool in the penthouse. I can’t believe I’m growing more comfortable revealing this side of myself to him.
I felt his breath on my femininity. “I’m not asking for it. Go ahead and sleep. I will clean you up. I know you’re exhausted from the journey.”
“But I want to do it. Come on, I want to suck yours too.”
He laughed, as if unable to believe what I was saying. “Alright, my love.” He kissed my forehead. Before, he sat close to my head. I put my head on his thighs. I lift my chin to gaze at him, and I can tell that he is now full of expectation. He can’t deny that he wants it too.
His manhood salutes me as if it were attempting to be ingested. So, I did. As I engaged in hand-based business while attempting to perform a warm tongue play, I detected a twitch and throb in his cock within my mouth.
I simply continue doing what I am doing, which I must admit I enjoy slightly because I want to bring him joy. I stood up, adjusted the bows on his manhood, and worked him again. Up and down. Slow and quick. Completely full.
“Your teeth, love. Do not use your teeth. Open your mouth more,” he said while adjusting my hair, which was getting in the way. I did what he requested and opened my mouth even more.
“Go faster, baby. Faster… Yes…”
I tried to pick up my pace, and now I can feel his hand on my head. Leading me to how he expected me to treat him. I could feel his tip against my throat. He’s becoming longer, larger, and firmer. I clung to his thighs.
And then he exploded in my mouth, almost causing me to gag and cough. He was holding my head, as if he couldn’t keep it together. When he let go, he kissed me and apologized repeatedly.
“It’s fine, love. It doesn’t hurt,” I replied, moving up to his side to hug him. It’s as if I’m no longer used to his job. He did the same with me in the pool. I’m feeling sleepy now. I have no more strength. It is all gone.
I felt him adjust me into his muscular arms. He then positioned the blanket to cover my naked body.
“Rest, my love,” he replied, kissing my forehead.
*****
I gently opened my eyes, and the first thing I noticed was his otherworldly attractive bare face. When he smiles at me, I quickly smile back.
“Are you awake yet?” I asked. I could not stop shivering in glee as I watched him.
“No, just a second before you woke up,” he replied, reaching for my forehead and planting a beautiful kiss. “I dreamed about you, my love.”
I smiled even more. “I dreamed about you too.” I held him strongly. I can’t express how I feel. My heart isn’t racing as fast anymore. It is quite reassuring. I enjoy this quietness. It feels great.
“What time is it now, Ismael?” I whispered.
“Ten in the morning.” I felt his hands wrap around my waist. Because we were both naked, his hard-working soldier kept banging into me. “I’m sorry about last night, baby,” he said, alluding to what we did.
I remembered that position again. I cannot stop giggling. “No need to apologize, love.” I exclaimed enthusiastically, “It was good.” To be honest, I appreciate the activities he suggests we do together. Because our circumstances have changed since we began dating, I am convinced that he is exceptionally proficient in bed. I do not know. I can’t recall if there was. All I can say is that each night brings a new experience for us to share.
I stepped away from his hug and met his gaze again. “Do whatever you want with my body. I’m also yours.”
I gave him a short, deep kiss, and he replied somewhat. It’s always a good sensation to have sex with the person you love. Adds vitality. I wish I could constantly hug him like this.
He pulled some hair strands under my ears as he continued to stare at me. I was doing the same. Making the most of the opportunity to glance at his face. I’ll never grow weary of looking at his face for the rest of my life. I cry at the thought. One day, I’ll see him every time I open my eyes in the morning. He is also the last person I see each night. I am in tears because even the simple things I do every day will suffice for me.
“You’re such a crybaby,” he said, wiping away tears from my cheeks that I hadn’t realized had dropped. “Why are you crying? I am not doing anything with you, my love,” he murmured, attempting to console me. If he had known the reason, he might have shed tears. If he could only hear what my heart and mind were saying, he wouldn’t have to ask any further questions.
“I can’t believe you’re here with me. It feels like yesterday when we were still bickering,” I said. “Never did I imagine I could be with you freely.”
“Yeah, a student-professor relationship is something I never imagined would happen to me. I became a useless man after eating my words. At first, I was just frustrated by how you fared in my class, but then I realized I was overly concerned about you. Jothea, you have successfully conquered me.”
“How did I do that? Ismael, what made you like me? I’m curious.”
“You won’t even remember.” He kissed me again, as if he were evading the question. “I won’t tell; you might cry even more.”
I snorted. “Crying is normal! I am glad, eh? When you departed, I cried nonstop! How about you? Didn’t you cry after you left me? Aren’t you hurt?”
“Why should I answer that? Of course not,” he responded, chuckling.
“Liar,” I murmured, lightly squeezing his arm.
He only grinned slightly and lifted his brows. “If I tell you how much I cried the day I left you, would you believe me?”
I paused and glanced at him for a moment. I smelled my cold, which was going to drop along with the tears. Why did he respond like that? Not straight, but telling the truth!
“See? That is why I do not want to inform you. You keep crying.”
“But I want to know,” I said, holding to his shoulder. He tampered with my hair.
“I cried for you in prayer.”
I sniffled even more after hearing what he said. I was taken off guard. I can’t believe I’ll be part of someone’s prayer.
“Ismael!” I went for his arm since I was crying all the time, and he was simply watching me, waiting for me to calm down.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “Do you mind showing your beauty to me only?”
I just held him since I didn’t know how to respond. I feel as if I’m in heaven because of him. I wish I could stop time.
We remained in each other’s arms for a bit before deciding to take a shower and prepare. It’s almost lunchtime. Ismael informed me that we would be eating lunch together with his brother, Danjer. I can’t help but feel worried about meeting one of his family members again. I was just as nervous when Ismael and Isa escorted me to their home to meet their parents.
I’m wearing a floral dress with matching flat sandals, while Ismael is dressed in a brown polo shirt and slacks. In fairness, jaw-dropping.
We headed to a restaurant where they could meet. When Ismael and I arrived, Danjer was already present. I was even impressed by his good looks, as he and Ismael are very similar. Sir Mikael’s genes appear to be strong, as his offspring look alike.
“This is my brother, Danjer Vanne,” Ismael introduced him. He stood up and shook my hand.
“Danjer Vanne Mondalla, mademoiselle,” that’s what he said.
“Jothea Alvandra, sir,” I responded before reaching for his hand, which didn’t linger long because Ismael had already begun speaking.
“She’s my woman and future wife,” he introduced himself before stroking my waist. I try to hide my delight. Why would he introduce me this way?
“I can see. Take your seats,” Ismael’s brother urged us. Ismael pulled the chair for me. A waiter approached us and took our lunch orders. My eyes almost widened at the price, but after realizing that the restaurant where we are presently is of good quality and has a lovely atmosphere, I was no longer surprised.
“Bonjour. Je prendai l’habituel. Poisson et frites.” (Hello. I will have the usual. Fish and chips.)
Danjer spoke, and I was in awe. I didn’t understand what he said except for the phrase bonjour, so I looked at Ismael, expecting him to explain what his brother said to me.
“Veuillez nous servir un hors-d’uvre, une soupe a l’oignon, une bouillabaisse, un coq au vin et un verre de bourgogne. Deux commandes de chacun. Merci.” Kindly serve us an hors d’oeuvre, French onion soup. bouillabaisse, coq au vin, and a glass of Burgundy. Two orders of each. Thank you.)
“Whoa, you ordered a lot,” Danjer exclaimed.
“Well, she’s a heavy eater, and I think I got it from her,” Ismael said. Did he call me a heavy eater? But wait a minute, does Ismael speak French? Since when? Why didn’t I know?
“Heavy eater? What do you mean? Is she pregnant?”