Valentine's Day

page views:1 Publication date:2023-06-11 14:37:16

He never guaranteed he would fall in love with her. At most, on Valentine's Day, they would go to a nice Western restaurant for a lavish dinner, then return to their shared place, undress her, and either mount her in the bathroom or insert his penis into her wet vagina at the dining table.

After several tense minutes of exciting and stimulating activity, they would both surrender and collapse on the floor. This had been going on for years. Sometimes, they would get so carried away that he would ejaculate uncontrollably into her thirsty, passionate vagina after his orgasm.

Then she would get angry.

After a few days of cold war, it would end in an even more violent act of intercourse.

They were typical hedonists; they considered procreation childish and marriage even more foolish. He couldn't handle the shock of a failed marriage. He had been raised by his grandmother since childhood, and he hated separation.

From a young age, she witnessed her father's cruel treatment of her mother, beating her when he was short of money and even raping her in front of her when sexually aroused. She hated marriage.

This year was different. On Valentine's Day, as usual, she waited for him at the restaurant, but he was late.

More than ten minutes passed, and she grew impatient and angry.
She initially wanted to turn around and leave, but for some reason, she felt anxious and began to worry that something had happened to him.

Finally, a feeling of abandonment washed over her. She grabbed her handbag, got up, and walked out of the restaurant without looking back.

It was now an hour and a half before their agreed time.

She rode her motorcycle along the coastal highway, her anger growing with each passing thought. She remembered their past joys and intimacy, and tears streamed down her face.

Yes, he had never promised to love her. Right now, he was already with another woman, or perhaps making love to some unknown woman.

She loved the feeling of his hands caressing her breasts from behind, loved the way his tongue touched every part of her body, including her private parts...

Just thinking about it made her mind go blank. She even felt ashamed when she remembered how, a few days ago, she had clung to him, murmuring begging him not to stop, during their passionate encounter. How could she have lived with such a man!

It was already past two in the morning when she decided to go home. As

soon as she opened the door, a hand covered her mouth, and she was pulled inside.

The sound of the door closing in the middle of the night was frightening.

Before she could understand what was happening, he sealed her lips with his. She recognized him from the familiar tongue and movements.

"Why are you crying?" he said. "I was so worried about you coming home so late!"

He didn't give her a reply and pulled her into the dining room. On the table were several items, and she clearly saw a sign that read, "I love you, please marry me!"

Then he muttered to himself, "I went to pick up our health check-up forms this morning, and that's when I decided to do this. This year is really special, hee hee! Can you grant me this little request?" He pointed to the sign.

She suddenly understood! But tears were already streaming down her face. She was so moved. These days, when she came home from work, she had a happiness she hadn't felt in her youth. She knew that in a few years, when she turned thirty, she would feel very empty.

She nodded slowly, not a big one, but he saw it!

"Hooray! My beautiful bride!" He picked her up, her tears turning into laughter, and the two of them stood still for that moment.

He gently put her down, his lips covering hers, his tongue touching hers, slowly letting her saliva flow into his mouth. His right hand reached behind her back, removing her clothes. Her fair figure was beautiful and alluring; her breasts, though not large, were captivating. Although they had made love hundreds of times over the years—anal sex, oral sex, in the bedroom, in the bathroom, in hotels—never before had they felt as nervous as they did today.

His lips knew every part of her body intimately. He moved from her lips to her cheeks, ears, and neck, finally settling on her chest. He buried his face between her breasts, each hand grasping one. He climbed like a mountain, reaching the summit and sucking hard on her erect nipples.

But what attracted him even more was her lower body. His face touched her soft pubic hair. He held her lips for a moment before moving down to her triangle. He spread her legs, looking at her rosy mons pubis. A few drops of love juice flowed down like dew. He immediately saw his target.

He bit her clitoris, supporting her thighs with both hands, and pressed his tongue against her labia. Her mons pubis was already wet with love juice. He licked her, sometimes with a strange sense of devotion driving him to caress and suckle. She had always thought she would never love, but now she had to admit the power of love.

In the past, their lovemaking was based on physical needs. She jokingly called this lovemaking without emotional foundation "mating," and after satisfaction, they would fall asleep.

He actually ejaculated on her pubic hair, her abdomen, and during anal sex on her buttocks, and during oral sex on her face, sometimes accidentally getting it on her hair.

She would simply smear it on her skin with her hands, or just lie down and fall asleep.

She teased his glans with her tongue, then took his penis into her mouth. He, not to be outdone, inserted his fingers into her vagina. The sudden pleasure caused her mouth to leave his penis. Once before, during oral sex, she had actually made him ejaculate; she couldn't pull away in time, leaving her mouth full of semen. He laughed at her embarrassment, but she sealed his mouth with hers, a move that left him stunned for a long time.

He lay there, letting her do as she pleased. Her mouth was off his penis; her left hand held the glans, while her right hand rubbed it up and down through the foreskin.

And him? He rubbed her body with both hands. After a while, he patted her left buttock, sat up straight, and then stood up.

She stood up, gathered her long, disheveled hair with her hands, and then knelt forward. He knelt down as well, grasping her waist with both hands, and began thrusting. She continued to moan, her breasts, suspended in mid-air, appearing as a V-shape, swaying back and forth like a rhythmic pendulum.

He had stopped all caressing her at this point; the mere back and forth motion had already stripped him of his aggression. Time flowed relentlessly by, and he knew he wasn't the superman from pornographic films, nor was the woman he was having sex with the kind of slut who only wanted pleasure and not semen. He possessed the real her; her vagina was his, her breasts were his, and her womb could now open its doors to welcome millions of sperm.

He withdrew his penis. He used the orthodox sexual position to please her, and to please himself.

Before long, he felt the time for the army to set off. Her moans began to turn into cries, intense yet mixed with satisfaction and orgasm.

He gasped, reaching the peak of his excitement. She moaned, her hips swaying with the rhythm of his thrusts, her breasts heaving. In his dazed state, he seemed to see two dark figures at the boundary of pleasure, sometimes merging into one. In that opening and closing, he felt himself and her becoming one, soaring through the sky.

His breathing quickened, and he gasped, hearing her final cry. In an instant, they burst apart from the chaotic space. A moment later, the panting stopped, the feeling like a violent storm suddenly vanishing. The moans and groans ceased, and they fell to earth as if they had fallen from the sky together. Everything stopped.

She lay on his arm, his right hand playing with her right nipple. He opened the sheet and, just as she had thought, she was pregnant with his child...

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