Soon she is buried in me right to the hilt, I feel her flush with my ass.
“Okay?” she asks again.
I nod, “Yes…but wait a bit now. Let me get used to this.”
She waits till she hears my “Okay, now,” and then she eases out part way slowly and then back in. She does that till she is flowing in and out of me smoothly and can see that my butt and thighs have relaxed.
She starts dragging out more and giving me longer thrusts. Then I am being fucked by Bethy like…I don’t know…I’m being fucking fucked!
I begin rocking back into her rhythm and we are moving together like well-orchestrated music.
I am grunting and panting. Bethy’s also breathing heavily. Soon the thrusts are fast and furious. I am slamming back as hard as she is slamming into me.
She tilts me up and snakes on hand around to my clit to flick it and rub it just the way I like it. Her fingers on me make me start verbalising in small noises which turn into whimpers and more. Her fingers do to me what that great big dick hasn’t been able to. I am now only capable of ragged moans.
She bends down and runs her teeth over my back lightly and the touch of her mouth, her lips on me pushes me over the edge.
I see white and practically collapse but Betha is holding me and continues pounding into me.
Before the waves of my first orgasm subside, my second one crashes over me and practically demolishes me. She shows no signs of stopping.
“Betha, stop…stop…” I gasp, “Some recovery time, please.” She slows down and as she is carefully coming out, I unexpectedly have one more orgasm. Fuck!
I roll over on my back and she lies down beside me on her back. I turn on my side and hug her.
“Was it good for you?” she asks, playing with my hair.
I grunt…because that is all I can do right now.
After a long while, I stir. I tilt my head up from where it is resting on her shoulder and she kisses me.
“Are you okay, princess?” she asks me.
I smile and kiss her. It is a kiss of affection, not passion. She kisses me back sensuously.
Her fingers move into my pussy. I am coated with cum and still wet. She just knows how to get me wetter and ready again.
She plays me expertly and I am soon on my back opening my legs wide.
She situates herself between my thighs and guides the head of the dildo to my opening. She eases into me and I hug her around her shoulders. She is thrusting in me at a pace that is slowly building up.
I move my hips in tandem with her thrusts. I shut my eyes and try to get into it. It is good – but it is Rick/David-brand good; it is not Beth-brand mindblowing.
I now know why I never had loud sex before Beth. Why I was always silent during sex earlier. Why I am now so noisy and such a screamer.
Having experienced the Beth-level of brain-melting sex, I am addicted to that.
The dildo is not working for me. I need fingers, lips, tongue. I need Betha.
I open my eyes and see her watching me. There seems to be the slightest hint of sadness, of uncertainty edging her eyes as she watches me. These are unexpected and strange emotions for her to be feeling while making love to me.
I make a mental note to ask her just what was going on in her head at this point.
But not now.
Later.
Hopefully, much later…much, much later.
“Betha,” I gasp between thrusts, “Get rid of that thing and fuck me properly.”
There is a flash of fire in her eyes burning away the sadness and uncertainty. And I am enlightened. She was giving me cock thinking I needed it. She was thinking that I enjoyed a dick in me more than what she and I did together.
She is nuts! Nuts!! Raving mad!
I should stop right now and chew her out for being an imbecile. For not trusting me. For not trusting us.
But while this insecurity in her causes me pain, I am also inundated with a feeling of being loved. She is thinking about me. Thinking that I should have whatever I want and need.
Yep…this requires a serious conversation between us.
She withdraws, removes the harness and puts the whole gizmo away on the bedside table. And she is back with me. Flush against me. Oh my God…the feel of her against me!
I am now more turned on and way more ready than I was. She goes down on me…and yessss! I truly, truly come for the first time tonight.
I have orgasmed thrice before earlier tonight, but that was only a physical reaction.
This is the orgasm that makes me feel my soul has melded with Beth’s.
This is the orgasm that comes from making love.
This is the one that satisfies me.
When Beth returns to my side and holds me, I am too exhausted to do anything but fall asleep.
******
When I get up, she is lying in her back, an arm thrown over her forehead looking at the ceiling. I kiss her shoulder and she turns, looks at me and smiles. I need to have that conversation with her. Now. It’s an important conversation…no, it’s an essential conversation.
“Betha, do you like toys?” I ask her.
“Not particularly.”
“But you have some stashed away?”
“No.”
“Did you want to use a dildo today because you were missing it or something?”
“Hell no! I bought it today.”
“Why did you want it today, Bethy?”
“I thought you might enjoy it…a change of pace for you.” Her voice has a note that I don’t quite like.
It is that suppressed insecurity. It is that doubt that the straight girl is going to stay with her. It is the fear of being temporary to me. It is the dread that she is merely a filler for me while I get back on my feet emotionally. It is the dread that I am soon going to come to my senses. It is the anxiety that I am just in a phase.
Oh Betha…you are going to have to try so, so hard to get rid of me from your life. You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me. But I cannot say this outright. I need to lead up to it. I need to make my point without her going ‘the lady doth protest too much, methinks’.
“Why did you feel I need a change of pace?” I ask, running the backs of my fingers along the side of her face.
“I dunno…just,” she mumbles, suddenly becoming and adolescent and resorting to teen-talk, looking away from meeting my eyes. She’s gotten all awkward. She cannot quite give words to her terrors…and I am not using the term ‘terror’ loosely here...she is truly terrified that she’ll lose me. I can hear it in her uneven breathing. In the jackhammer racing of her heart.
I realise that the conversation that we’d had a few weeks back has not laid her uncertainty about my sexual preference to rest.
“Honey, look at me,” I say. She looks into my eyes. “Do you believe that I love you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe that I have never felt this way and that I have never said that to anyone before?”
“Of course, princess. You are the most honest and straightforward person I know and you’ve told me this.”
“Good. I would be heartbroken if you had any doubts about my feelings for you. Bethy, do you have any clue about how happy I am with you? About how happy you make me?” I am caressing her face as I speak.
She gives me a big smile in response and I let it go at that.
“Are you happy with me?” I ask.
“You’re the only thing I ever wished for in my life, princess. I am happier than I ever thought was possible.”
“No Betha, that says you’re happy with me being in your life. Are you happy with me? Do I satisfy you?”
“You know you do…in every which way.”
“Bethany Swift, I want you to know that you also satisfy me in every which way. I am so, so fulfilled by you on levels that I didn’t even know needed satisfying; in dimensions I didn’t even know existed. You are everything that I didn’t know I was craving for in my life.”
Her smile is dazzling.
“And I need you to know something more,” I continue gently, “between dick and lick, I want your lick way, way, way more. What you do to me with your fingers, lips and tongue is the only thing I want. This toy doesn’t do it for me. Rick and David couldn’t come close to doing for me what you do.
“Honey, before you my sex life might always have involved a cock but you didn’t ask me whether it satisfied me the way you do. You never asked me whether I want it back. The answers are that no, it never satisfied me the way you do. I didn’t even know sex was supposed to be as good as you’ve made it for me. And I definitely don’t need it or want it back in my life. Capiche?”
“Yes ma’am,” the shine is back in her eyes.
“I want you to know that I don’t need any toys from you…but if you ever want to play with them…I’m yours. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Betha…remember this…I’m yours…in every which way, in any way you want me…for always,” I whisper into her ears.
Her arms tighten around me convulsively.
******************************************
Love Story
Betha’s birthday is round the corner…in two weeks…and I am going completely crazy with excitement. I want to make it special. I want her to know what she means to me. I want to give her the world…truly.
After being in a mental frenzy for almost a month, I finally decided to give her a watch. She is especially fond of watches.
I’ve zeroed down on the luxury watch brand, Patek Phillippe.
When I started shopping, I couldn’t decide on one single piece – they had so many gorgeous ones. So I’ve bought her three. I’ve got her an ultra-thin Calatrava skeleton watch which can be casual wear, a Calatrava chocolate brown watch with 72 tiny diamonds as office wear and a rather dressy Nautilus one fully paved with diamonds. All of them are in rose gold, which she really fancies.
I also checked out the top hundred action/fantasy YA series and have bought all the book sets that she doesn’t already own. So I’m going to add about two hundred books to her collection. The way she devours them, these should last her around nine months or so. Maybe less. But she enjoys them so much. I think their books are only second to me in her unbridled pleasures. A distant second.
Cost clearly is of not much consequence to me. Well, I guess I need to come clean about something.
So, here’s the thing. I am rich. Maybe not filthy rich yet – but I’m dirty rich. Very dirty.
About seven years back my maternal grandparents died within a few months of each other. They always felt very bad about the how badly my parents neglected me and they made special efforts to shower me with love and attention. They lived in Spain, so a lot of the showering was long distance. But much as they tried, the neglect did damage me.
When the primary caregivers of a child neglect them emotionally, no one can ever make up for it. No matter how much they try.
A child needs love from their parents. Maybe parents can offset one another if one of them chooses to play favourites but no extended family, distant relative of friend/s can stand in.
Except maybe…and this is a very big ‘maybe’…if that person or people are there in the child’s life on an everyday basis. Long distance loving and pampering doesn’t completely save the child.
Since both my parents are surgeons, it wasn’t like I was lacking materially…but emotionally, it was another story.
Let me explain what I mean when I say emotional neglect can damage a child. With me, as I already mentioned before, I became needy and clingy and that I had this desperate need to be the most important to someone…anyone.
I also escaped into my imagination and created a fairy tale about love and an idealistic life with a partner. It was my refuge. My utopian world. I became a complete, complete romantic.
This remained my deepest secret because no one ever came close to being what I had created in my head and the notion I had given away my heart to.
So there has always been parts of me wanting. Seeking. Wishing.
When my grandparents’ will was read, they had left everything to me. Now their everything was a lot (lot, in bold face, large font capitals). They owned a mid-sized wine company and about fifty thousand acres of vinery. Plus luxurious houses in Barcelona and Madrid. All this ran into millions. Three figure millions. Fortunately, finance is my home ground. I understand it extremely well.
My grandparents had a highly efficient lawyer. With his help and intervention guided by my strategy, we worked out a deal for me with one of the leading wine brands of Spain. The deal was rather sweet. The vineyard was sold for a hefty amount – which I ensured was still lower than its true value – so that I could negotiate for and get a two percent profit sharing in the parent company. This translates into low millions annually.
I’ve kept both the houses and invested the money that I got for the vinery into interest earning instruments, so that capital also continuously growing.
The skip-generation will (my mom was an only child) did not go down well with my mother. My mom sincerely believed (bless her partisan heart) that I should have given my brother half of everything. She also felt she deserved part of the bounty.
Clearly, I didn’t buy into this belief. My refusal to kowtow to her wishes created a deeper wedge in whatever relationship we had.
But I was already done with my birth family, so it was no sweat off my back. It has been seven years since either of my parents or my brother have spoken to me.
Then came another windfall for me.
About two years back, my paternal uncle passed away. He was single and extremely fond of me. He was a thirty percent partner in a company manufacturing all manner of cleaning products.
His brand is ubiquitous across South East Asia and parts of Middle East with a small market share in North America also. It makes profits in low billions each year. He left his entire equity and ownership of the organisation to me. Which means there is year-on-year profit coming to me from there too.
Currently, I just invest all the money that comes to me and play the stock market a little too. That has also been working very well, financially. I have also invested some money and small and medium sized businesses…a kind of angel investor or venture capitalist but on a very low level kind of way. So I am a minor stakeholder in a little over fifteen companies which earn their own different levels of profits.
So, you see, I’m quite rolling in it.
I choose to live modestly within the salary I earn as a financial and business analyst. Okay, my salary and the bonuses I get are generous – extremely generous – so maybe not all that modestly. It is a fact that every single thing I own is a top-end brand. But I do live modestly enough. I live in an upper middle class suburb. My house is modest sized. The furniture, fittings and everything else is high-end but it is not ostentatious. Nothing about me screams “rich”.
The thing is that I am a die-hard romantic. I always felt my “real” life will start when I have the right partner. It is then that we (me and my partner) will indulge in all the rolling wealth I have. We will totally indulge in ourselves and pamper ourselves. I have no issues with conspicuous consumption and I saw me and my partner making every dream, every whim, come true with that wealth.
That, however, isn’t the entire endgame of using my money for me. For me education is an important thing so I plan on setting up scholarship funds to support deserving youngsters study. I also plan to start education and nutrition focussed charities in third world countries in addition to getting into work for women’s health. Yeah, there are a lot of plans I have about spending the money to make a better world.
But first I needed my world to be righted…and Beth being in my life has done just that.
Beth and I have never spoken about finances. It has never come up. We both are earning very well and money has never popped up between us in any way. But this conversation about my money has to come up soon a
s our lives are getting more and more intertwined. I need to tell her.
******
At the stroke of zero hour on her birthday, I roll over on Bethy and kiss her softly. “Happy birthday, sweetie,” I say with all the emotion I feel for her plain to see on my face and in my face and plain to hear in my voice.
She sees all that and I can she is moved…maybe a little stunned. She still hadn’t expected me to be so into her. To be so in love with her.
I guess when you’ve wanted something for more than half your life, it is difficult to believe you’ve got it when you finally do get it.
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