Taking his time, he inserts his hot thick member into me. Inch by inch. It quickly fills me. He bobs it slowly, methodically building erotic tension. In my state, hard, reckless fucking has been replaced with slow, passionate lovemaking. We have both discovered there is beauty in slow love. At least, for now.
As he continues to slide his hard rod up and down my tunnel with deep, slow, deliberate strokes, his deft fingers gently massage my clit. I moan as it grows hard beneath his touch.
“You’re so hot and wet,” he murmurs.
I wrap my arms around him and meet his thrusts with my hips. His thrusts deepen, intensifying the pleasure zapping me inside.
“Oh baby, you feel so good.” Against my wall, his member explodes, hot cum pouring through my canal. He cries out my name. “Saarah!” My own orgasm meets his, and I cry like a siren in the night. Ahh! Such sweet surrender.
He buries his head on my shoulder, and I do the same. We bask in each other’s juices and do not move for several minutes. The candles flicker.
“You okay?” He’s so concerned about my well-being.
“Darling, I’ve never have been better.” The truth.
He pulls out his erection. Slowly.
“Come, baby, let’s get ready for your big night.” He plants a warm kiss on my lips. From the corner of my eye, I glimpse my mother’s portrait of me as a child that’s hung over a commode. The little girl’s big brown eyes gaze at me, marveling at the woman she has grown up to be.
We are going to The Waldorf Astoria—this time for the annual Toy of the Year Awards. My toyline, Brainy Trainz, has been nominated for the top award, Best Toy of the Year. Upon Ari’s urging, I showed Ike the toy train I had given Ben for his birthday. With illustrated boards, I demonstrated to him how it could be expanded to include a collection of connective “smart” trains and a playset featuring railroad tracks, tunnels, and commuters. Among the prototype commuters were a handsome golden-haired businessman and his companion, a tall plain girl with a ponytail.
Ike went nuts for it. It was exactly the boys’ product line he was looking for—innovative, collectible, and educational. He put it on the fast track—no pun intended. Sure enough, it was an overnight phenomenon. A breakthrough toy. I’m now Vice President of Boys’ Toys, about to launch my other creation—Combat Wombats.
The competition is steep. I’m up against well-known entities like Legos and Marvel action heroes. It doesn’t matter to me if I win or not. I’ve already won everything I could ever want in my life.
Ari and I take a quick shower together, lathering each other in fragrant soap. He spends considerable time soaping up my big breasts and belly, arousing me yet again. Our desire to make love again is overwhelming, but there’s no time. Well, except for a quick blow job. I can’t resist my darling husband’s splendid cock—my favorite toy. After toweling each other dry, we dress for the black-tie event ahead.
How beautiful my Trainman looks in his perfectly tailored black tux. Beyond beautiful. His baby blue bow tie and matching cummerbund are the same shade as his piercing blue eyes and complement his perfectly bronzed skin.
I am wearing a one-shoulder white crepe Armani gown that hangs loosely over my belly. I take a glimpse of myself in the mirrored armoire. My hair is swept up, and diamond teardrop earrings—a wedding gift from Ari—hang from my ears. The scar on my chest peaks out from the gown, a constant reminder of my near-death experience. Had Ari not gotten to my apartment in time, I would have bled to death. Over time, we have learned that love can heal scars, both emotional and physical.
Ari hands me my shoes. A pair of metallic silver ballet flats. He refused to let me wear stilettos. God forbid if I trip rushing up to the podium and something happens to me. I slip them on. I reluctantly gave in to him, but told him his worrying was ridiculous because I
As he continues to slide his hard rod up and down my tunnel with deep, slow, deliberate strokes, his deft fingers gently massage my clit. I moan as it grows hard beneath his touch.
“You’re so hot and wet,” he murmurs.
I wrap my arms around him and meet his thrusts with my hips. His thrusts deepen, intensifying the pleasure zapping me inside.
“Oh baby, you feel so good.” Against my wall, his member explodes, hot cum pouring through my canal. He cries out my name. “Saarah!” My own orgasm meets his, and I cry like a siren in the night. Ahh! Such sweet surrender.
He buries his head on my shoulder, and I do the same. We bask in each other’s juices and do not move for several minutes. The candles flicker.
“You okay?” He’s so concerned about my well-being.
“Darling, I’ve never have been better.” The truth.
He pulls out his erection. Slowly.
“Come, baby, let’s get ready for your big night.” He plants a warm kiss on my lips. From the corner of my eye, I glimpse my mother’s portrait of me as a child that’s hung over a commode. The little girl’s big brown eyes gaze at me, marveling at the woman she has grown up to be.
We are going to The Waldorf Astoria—this time for the annual Toy of the Year Awards. My toyline, Brainy Trainz, has been nominated for the top award, Best Toy of the Year. Upon Ari’s urging, I showed Ike the toy train I had given Ben for his birthday. With illustrated boards, I demonstrated to him how it could be expanded to include a collection of connective “smart” trains and a playset featuring railroad tracks, tunnels, and commuters. Among the prototype commuters were a handsome golden-haired businessman and his companion, a tall plain girl with a ponytail.
Ike went nuts for it. It was exactly the boys’ product line he was looking for—innovative, collectible, and educational. He put it on the fast track—no pun intended. Sure enough, it was an overnight phenomenon. A breakthrough toy. I’m now Vice President of Boys’ Toys, about to launch my other creation—Combat Wombats.
The competition is steep. I’m up against well-known entities like Legos and Marvel action heroes. It doesn’t matter to me if I win or not. I’ve already won everything I could ever want in my life.
Ari and I take a quick shower together, lathering each other in fragrant soap. He spends considerable time soaping up my big breasts and belly, arousing me yet again. Our desire to make love again is overwhelming, but there’s no time. Well, except for a quick blow job. I can’t resist my darling husband’s splendid cock—my favorite toy. After toweling each other dry, we dress for the black-tie event ahead.
How beautiful my Trainman looks in his perfectly tailored black tux. Beyond beautiful. His baby blue bow tie and matching cummerbund are the same shade as his piercing blue eyes and complement his perfectly bronzed skin.
I am wearing a one-shoulder white crepe Armani gown that hangs loosely over my belly. I take a glimpse of myself in the mirrored armoire. My hair is swept up, and diamond teardrop earrings—a wedding gift from Ari—hang from my ears. The scar on my chest peaks out from the gown, a constant reminder of my near-death experience. Had Ari not gotten to my apartment in time, I would have bled to death. Over time, we have learned that love can heal scars, both emotional and physical.
Ari hands me my shoes. A pair of metallic silver ballet flats. He refused to let me wear stilettos. God forbid if I trip rushing up to the podium and something happens to me. I slip them on. I reluctantly gave in to him, but told him his worrying was ridiculous because I
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