House of Feathers Ch. 08: A Modest Proposal

Over the last of our breakfast coffee, he asked, "So, what's on for today?"

"Editing, rewrites. You?"

"Working on those two patent applications. The one's current; the other won't pay off for years, but Boston says I need to get the papers filed now."

"Fun stuff. What time will you be finished?"

"By lunch, actually, I hope. Nothing too complicated. Just clarifying some stuff; keeping the lawyers in mink."

"Going to buy me a mink, dear?"

He ran his hand down my side, cupping my bare left breast. "If you want." He closed his eyes for a moment in thought. "OK, I can have a full-length mink here on next week's plane." He opened his eyes and grinned at me. "Where will you wear it?"

It was an obvious question. The average outdoor temperature at our villa was 28º, day and night. Beyond sandals, neither of us wore a scrap of clothing except when shopping in town or when a local couple came on a weekly cleaning day. Not counting the two sun dresses I wore then and some exotic items I'd rather not wear in front of my mother, I think I had three thongs, two formal gowns and a pashmina to my name. OK, I guess there was a suitcase somewhere in the back rooms, whatever I was carrying when I got here.

He thumbed my nipple gently. It tingled.

I leaned my head on his shoulder. "OK, forget the fur for now."

I raised my head, reached over and ran my finger between his thighs. His manly bits were tucked down out of sight. Cheater. "But I get a credit for later, right? In case we wind up visiting someplace cold?"

"It'll waiting at the airport lounge when we get to Stockholm," he smiled, hugging my shoulder.

"Stockholm?"

"Well, if you'd rather get married in Lagos, it can be arranged," he smiled.

"Lagos? Why in hell would I want to go to Lagos? Wait. What?"

He grinned.

I stared at him, open-mouthed. "Was that a proposal?"

The bastard. He'd done it again.

He kept grinning. His hand squeezed my breast gently. My nipple stiffened.

"It's been five years," he smiled. "I thought you might want to make an honest man out of me."

My heart was hammering. "Married?"

"To go with the mink. Suite at the Nobis if you want. Invite your mother. We could stop off in Amsterdam on the way for a ring."

I thought I had risen above Girly very well, but the words burst out of my mouth totally on their own, "But I don't have anything to wear!"

Oh, God. I couldn't believe that I'd said that. I could feel myself blushing, head to foot.

He smirked. "I take it that means you accept?"

"Oh, yes!" I said, breaking into tears. I grabbed his head and pulled it to mine. Lip mashing ensued.

He picked up a napkin and wiped my eyes. Putting it down, he apparently discovered that he had two free hands. He shifted his chair to face mine and started playing with both of my boobs. His smile went from one ear to another. I knew that one - it was his 'I love to please you' smile.

In moving his chair, he'd left his legs apart and I reached down and started stroking along the top of his limp penis.

"I would love to marry you, dear. Thank you, yes, I accept, with all my heart."

I leaned forward and kissed him, hard, then grabbed his scrotum in my right hand and whispered in his ear. "But some things a girl doesn't want joked about, mu kallis. If it turns out that today's the first of April or something..." I squeezed, just a little.

He ignored my threat to our future love life and continued to fondle the Girls. My nipples were telegraphing their approval to my pussy.

"When have I ever joked about something like that?" he asked.

"No, but you've never proposed to me before."

"I could do it on one knee, if you wish..." His expert fingers continued to mound and squeeze my boobs.

"Not... ah... No." I gasped as he tweeked a nipple. Mine are always sensitive and his emotional bombshell had them supercharged.

Easing my grip on his precious bits, I watched his manhood rising. It's an amazing sight for me, every time. Some people just see an erect phallus, but there's so much more to it. It doesn't just get bigger; it changes shape and colour, its angle changes as it gets harder. The scrotum lifts, its colour changing, too. Veins become prominent. The head bulges out. I find the process fascinating.

"Was this a spur-of-the-moment decision, dear?" I asked, shifting my hand to stroke lightly back and forth along its growing length. I switched to an underhand grip and tickled behind his scrotum with my fingers on each stroke.

"I've been thinking about it for a while. This seemed to be a good time." His thumbs separated the Girls, his closing hands squeezed them, sliding off the tips. I bit my lower lip as he repeated it. And again. I leaned in closer to give him better access. It looked like a Good Boob Day, so make the most of it.

Looking between his forearms, I lightly dragged my nails first along his inner thighs, then along the underside of his cock. Repeat, watch his eyes close, feel his member throb. I felt myself getting wet looking at it.

I switched grips on his shaft and started to pump it, slowly at first, then faster. His grip on my boobs loosened. Leaning over him, I fed a nipple into his mouth and felt him grasp it with his lips. He began to lick the tip with his tongue and gently nibbled with his teeth.

Both breasts applauded.

I pumped with my other hand. His manhood pulsed under my moving fingers. He hissed quietly.

One hand clasped me around my waist, the other stroked me from shoulder to hip.

I sped up the pumping, but leaned forward and kissed him, thrusting my tongue in and out of his mouth. His eyes snapped open and he leaned into the kiss. His tongue traced the insides of my upper and lower lips, then softly stroked the roof of my mouth.

I felt his fingers move past my thighs and gently tease my labia. My stomach knotted in response. He was amazing strong when he needed to be, but at times like this could be so very gentle. He stroked first the one and then the other, then grasped them together and slowly massaged them. My blood pressure was soaring like a rocket.

I fondled his testicles, my fingers rolling, gently pulling them downwards in their fleshy sack. I slowed my pumping of his length, but took my thumb at the top of each stroke and swirled it around his cock-head. I could hear him start to breathe faster. His manhood pulsed in my hand like a live thing.

I stopped pumping, placed a thumb on the underside of his helmet. Gently, persistently, I slowly massaged his most sensitive area. I could see his abs tense in response. His eyes closed, a concentrated smile on his lips, he was the picture of excited contentment - and I knew I was responsible. Such power we women have, if we are wise enough to use it properly. How much love I was feeling!

His fingers started lightly sweeping the length of my pussy, inside the now-drenched lips on the way up, and then outside as his hands made their way back down. I could feel my lips swell. I could smell my arousal - and his.

I grasped the base of his manhood, holding it still. Fanning the fingers of my other hand, separated and straight out, I rippled them back and forth across the top of his glans. It throbbed in my hand. He rose a little on his legs. I bounced his cock on the tips of my fingers, felt his finger probe my G-spot. Pleasure built inside me at his expert caresses.

I moaned and, encouraged by the sound, a second finger entered. The two began a dance inside my pussy, stretching and fondling my slippery walls. I squeezed and the fingers continued.

I moaned louder. He continued to nibble my nipples and the feeling was resonating across my entire body.

I grasped his cock with both hands, one above the other, and started pumping up and down, each hand turning in opposite directions. Slick pre-cum oozed from under my top thumb as it swept his head, back and forth. I focused on his slit, so prominent on the swollen and purple head dancing beneath my swaying fingers. His face took on a dreamy look.

I leaned my head forward to rest on his shoulder again. His breathing in my ear was rapid, expectant.

He pulled on a nipple as his finger flicked lightly across my clitoris, then pressed it softly but firmly and I came.

My orgasm echoed back and forth between boobs, thundered through my clit. I shuddered, yelled his name.

I squeezed his manhood harder and he gasped, "Stop!" His cock jerked, pulsed and twitched rhythmically in my still hand, but he didn't ejaculate. I let go of him; he took several deep breaths.

After a few seconds, he lifted me up to my feet by my hands and bent me over the table. I tried to push the dishes to one side but under his pressure, my arm knocked a coffee cup off the table, shattering it on the floor. I could feel one, then both of his hands on my buttocks as he positioned himself at my entrance and then leisurely slid in. His hands moved to my waist and clutched me firmly as he continued to slowly, very slowly, move in and out of my depths.

My nipples were being rubbed across the tablecloth. I could feel another orgasm building within me. I began to moan, "Yes! Yes!" with each stroke. He remained dead quiet, focussed on his efforts. His grip tightened on my waist.

He paused, his stomach tight against my ass, his engorged manhood filling me. His one hand remained on my hip; the other stroked along my bum, up my side and caressed the side of my breast. He resumed his stroking, but very slowly, trying to draw out his own orgasm.

I could tell he was close. I could either start moving my own hips against him, making him cum almost instantly, or else remain still, allowing him to prolong and extend. Either way, I was full of love (in so many different ways) and I decided to allow it to be his call.

I lifted up my chest off the table, resting on my elbows. A spoon followed the coffee cup and spun around our feet. His hand slipped in under my chest and he began fondling and massaging my boobs. His length eased slowly in and out of me, my excitement building equally slowly. His palm on my nipple seemed to be pouring pure pleasure into me.

Good call, girl! I thought.

We continued for a long time. Again and again, he would slow down, stop and pause in partial orgasm, his organ twitching but not ever hitting a full-out one. His head slowly caressing my G-spot on each stroke; I had four mini-cums. Time flowed like a gentle river. Pleasure overwhelmed me. Looking over my shoulder, my love's face was so serene. Timeless loving, timeless pleasure - it could have been 20 minutes, it could have been two hours. It didn't matter; I was floating on a river of love.

Finally he put both hands back on my hip and started thrusting in earnest. In response, I shifted my weight and reached down between my legs with one hand. I fondled and tickled his bare sack and squeezed his shaft as it pistoned in and out of my lips. I started backing into him to meet his stroke, rolling my hips under his hands. The sound of his abdomen smacking against my ass filled the room.

He growled, clutched at my hips and came, his organ beating like a metronome. I reached forward, fingered my clitoris and came myself.

Our orgasms seemed to go on for an hour, sweet, pounding, round and round. I could feel every nerve in my pussy.

I continued to grip him inside, milking the last drops from his throbbing organ. I could feel his pulsing stop, but kept gently working his hardness with my pussy.

We sagged, totally spent, small orgasmic ripples continuing. His hands grasped my shoulders and turned me around, pulling me in to his chest.

After a few minutes, he helped me into the bedroom and laid me on the bed. He returned a moment later with a damp cloth and gently cleaned me off, then himself. Dropping the cloth on the floor, he came around to the other side of the bed and slipped in beside me. We dozed in perfect peace.

Some time later, I reached over my hip, between us, and grasped his now-soft penis. "Hon?"

"Mmm?" He was hardly awake.

"You were serious?"

"M'always serious when I ask beautiful women to marry me."

I gave his pride a gentle squeeze. "I know, silly. I meant the mink."

There was no answer, just a gentle, "Mmff."

I'd settle for that.

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