Look at Me My Love

Part 1. The Reverie

"Oh why won't he look at me lying here in the shade of the veranda? Please let him look at me. Why doesn't he know how I feel lying here in the warmth of the sun? I've done everything I could to draw him to me; put on my most revealing two-piece; moved so he can see my breasts with their nipples erect pressing against the thin cloth and sinking between the lips of my vulva.

He is so close; can he not smell my female aroma? Why does he not stir?"

"I can feel my lubricant wetting the cloth passing over my sex organ. It must be making a stain that if only he looks at me he must see. Can't he feel the desire - the craving – emanating from me? Surely such powerful feelings must reach out to stir the longed for one?"

"He just lays there, less than a metre from me on the air mattress, reading his book. His young bronzed body relaxed, the beautiful smooth muscles at ease. He has not even put on his shorts but just lies there in a pair of underpants, his manhood showing clearly against the shiny fabric. His penis seems to be partially erect, his testicles swollen, filled with his young semen, waiting for the moment of release."

"Is he thinking of someone? Thinking of one into whom he can empty himself in a moment of lust or love, or is the book he is reading rousing him with word pictures of gratifying ecstasy?"

"Not only my organs of reproduction, but my whole body and mind yearns for him. I am consumed by this incessant hunger that pervades me day after day and that no self-stimulation will relieve. At night when I sleep he fills my dreams and I am tragically awakened at the moment of his penetration of me. No, not even in dreams can I have him."

"For so long this agonising desire has permeated me – haunting me day after day, week after week? Is it two, no, three long years at least; years in which he has been so close and so dear to me? I have tried without speaking the words to let him know of my love for him and that there is nothing I would not do, nothing I would not give, for just one moment of union with him."

"Does he love me – love me as he once did? So often long ago he constantly told me of his love, but then it seemed to fade and die. Has his love turned to another, to one I do not know, that he does not speak of? The very thought sends agonising spears of jealousy through me. There is only one that is fit for him, and she lies beside him."

"I sometimes feel as though I will go mad I long for him so much, yet I cannot speak, I cannot reveal my heart to him for fear he will be repelled. Perhaps I am mad, my body and mind so obsessed with him, desiring him, that it has lost all control and sanity?"

"No, I am not mad or I would speak; I would implore him to free me from this bondage; to give me again a life liberated by the knowledge that its torments would cease, its hunger fed."

"I can see he has grown drowsy over his book. The warmth of the day has lulled him off into a half dream world. Is it my imagination or has his penis grown harder? Is he fantasising in his drowsiness? Perhaps in a moment he will rise and go to his bedroom to masturbate, gasping out the name of the fantasised one."

"Still he does not stir. His beautiful dark eyes that can reflect so many shades of meaning; eyes that I long to have look into mine and see the love therein, are half closed."

"If I were to move a little; let the cup of my top 'accidentally' slip to expose a breast, and then make a small sound – perhaps an irritated gasp as I swat an imaginary fly, would he look at me, and seeing my breast open to his gaze, be finally lured to my body?"

"If he did come to me, would he be gentle or would he take me savagely, punishing me for having aroused in him unwanted desires? Hating me, but in that moment needing me to sate the lust I had inspired?" In hate or love I would receive him with joy and strive to let him feel the love I have for him."

"I have prayed to be released from this concupiscence that imprisons me, but still it holds me fast. No divinity comes to my aid, but rather seems to stand afar off, laughing at my anguish, adding more fuel to the fire that burns within me. There is no heavenly mercy, no act of grace that will bring me peace."

"Yes, I will let the cup slip. Now if he only looks at me, just one glance, he will see a ripe breast, firm and full, its pink nipple standing out, long and firm, pleading to be suckled. I shall open my legs wider so that if he does look, he will see the fluid of my love soaking the cloth. Surely then he would not refuse to ease the hunger that torments me?"

"It is done, a breast exposed, but I do not have the courage to make the little sound that might arouse him from his day dream. I can only lay here, my moist lips parted, eyes shining with sexual desire, hoping he will move."

"His book has fallen from his grasp and has hit the ground with a slight thud. He jerks out of his half doze and reaches down to pick it up. His eyes are upon me, startled at first, and then with slow comprehension he has risen and is coming to me. I can see his manhood, now fully extended. Dear God, he is coming to me at last, let him love me as I need to be loved."

Part 2.From Reverie to Reality

He stood over me for a moment, gazing at me. I lay there on my own air mattress in open surrender to him, looking back at him, telling him with my eyes that he need not hesitate.

No word was spoken. He joined me on the mattress, pressing his lips to mine, his mouth open, his tongue exploring.

He cupped the breast I had exposed with his hand and caressed it gently, his fingers pressing the nipple.

I insinuated my hand into the top of his underpants and felt his penis, hard and warm, throbbing with every heart beat and the sticky fluid of his pre-cum oozing from his urethra.

He removed my top to expose both breasts, and after gazing at them for a moment took a nipple into his mouth and suckled me like a hungry child. His hand touched my sex organ, the fingers searching for my opening. So very slowing his fingers slipped into me feeling the wetness.

Waves of love washed over me. He would take me and I would teach him what true love meant. He would know what a woman could do for the man she loves.

His finger was circling my clitoris and I stopped stroking his penis, and for the first time made a sound; no more than a gasp of delight, but it seemed to arouse him even more.

His hands explored my body like someone taking possession of a long desired but newly acquired object, and he began to kiss his way down me, starting at my hair, my forehead, my eyes and nose; pausing at my lips, then he went on down my body until he reached my sex organ.

He knelt before me, lifting my buttocks, and then his fingers opened the lips of my vulva to expose the pink petals beyond. He bent to kiss me there, and for a moment I felt apprehensive. Would he like my female fragrance and the taste of my lubricant?

Reassurance came as he licked eagerly, seeming to want to lap up my fluid.

He brought exquisite torment to me as his tongue touched my clitoris, bringing me to the edge of that moment of intense pleasure. Yet he would not let me come then, but moved back.

I drew his face to mine and kissed him, smelling and tasting myself. If possible I became even more inflamed and could no longer remain silent. Parting my legs wide I said, "Now, darling."

He came over me and as I guided him into me I raised my legs to give him the deepest possible penetration. He gave a soft groan as he felt the moist warmth of my tunnel. I whimpered as he pressed deep into me and then drew back to thrust in again.

His manhood seemed to fill me and the orgasm he had refused me during cunnilingus could no longer be denied. It seemed to come from afar off and hurtle towards me like some wild beast about to seize its prey. Then I was in its grasp, being shaken and consumed as its exquisite torture dragged shrieks of ecstasy from me.

He gave a low moan and I felt the first eruption of his semen into me. With each ejection he gasped and thrust in deep. My legs now wrapped round him I forced him in deeper and deeper.

His seed mingled with my lubricant to flood me; again an again he released himself into me as I wept with elation. At last the long wanderings in the wilderness of unrequited longing were over, and he was mine.

He finished and lay limply over me as I continued to move myself over his shaft until the last quivering of my orgasm ceased.

We had no urge to separate, and we lay together until he was ready to take me again.

Part 3.The Aftermath

The long torment of our restraint had ended, to be replaced by a new demon. We were like children who, having taken one sweet from the bag and eaten cannot stop until the whole is consumed. But the container of our desires seemed bottomless. The more we consumed the more we wanted to consume and we feasted without end.

The normal demands of life and work were but an interruption of our loving. Even when we were not copulating we seemed unable to leave each other alone, touching and kissing at every opportunity.

There were times when I sucked him dry of his sperm and his penis remained flaccid for a time, but even then he served me with tongue and fingers, relieving me of the seemingly endless stream of libidinous energy that he inspired in me.

At other times I rejoiced when he came into my mouth or between my breasts. It seemed a way of giving without thought of return, but mostly it did lead to a return.

We had found in each other the ever flowing fountain of fulfilment that was capped only by my being able to tell him I was pregnant to him.

If I had been apprehensive then I need not have been. His words gave me all the reassurance I needed.

"Mother, how beautiful."