Kat and Cyrano, Chapter 13: Holidays, Winter 2008-2009Kat and Cyrano, Chapter 13: Holidays, Winter 2008-2009


In the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas, 2008, Eric and I continued to strengthen the bond of our shared sexual adventures. We had our morning and evening train rides together, and of course we had our three favorite public trysting spots: the pond, the mall stairwell, and the river bank. I knew I could always count on getting fucked deeply, gently yet powerfully, and oh so very lovingly, in our favorite spots, two to three times a week. And I was extremely happy about that. Even on the commuter train, Eric would thrill me in the most wonderful ways. Being colder weather by California standards (50 degrees Fahrenheit instead of 75), I would wear darker color skirts – navy blues, chocolate browns, and black – rather than my summer yellows and baby blues and pale greens. I would match my miniskirts with tight jackets of the same color, looking business professional for the office but curvy and sexy for Eric. I had two cats at that time. In an ironic playfulness that matched my playful sexuality, I had named the white cat Pepper and the black cat Salt. Both cats would want to play and be petted every morning, before I left for work. Salt wasn’t really a problem, since his black fur would blend into my dark winter fabrics. But Pepper’s white hairs would be very pronounced against my skirts and blazers. On the train each morning, Eric would help me brush Pepper’s cat fur off my business suits. Given our many intensely sexual intimacies, just the touch of his hand on my clothing would thrill me, every time. One day, when Pepper had shed particularly heavily on my jacket, I apologized to Eric that there was so much fur to remove. “That’s okay,” he punned. “These past few months, since we met, I’ve grown to really like, umm, KAT fur!” He smiled and winked. I laughed. “And I have grown an intense fascination with, umm, swords. Big, hard-steel swords!” We kissed passionately, and I suggested we get off the train at the next stop, a college campus. I led Eric to a huge park across the street from the campus. At the far end of the park, far from the students and teachers rushing off to their classes. I sat under a huge tree, and I beckoned Eric to sit beside me. We kissed again. Then, before Eric could quite realize what I was doing, I sat up, rapidly unzipped his trousers, leaned over him, and gobbled his big cock in one powerful, hungry suck. It took me about five minutes of deep suction before he exploded wonderfully down my throat. “You are the yummiest thing,” I grinned, “that I’ve ever tasted!” I lay back against the thick tree trunk, and pulled up my tight miniskirt. Eric skimmed my tiny navy-blue panties off my legs, and as he dove face-first into my bush, he began to improvise his own version of the classic Nat King Cole Christmas song: “Horny girlfriend lying underneath a tree, Kat fur tickling at my nose. Hard little clit, throbbing with intense desire. And both of undressed so everything now shows.” “Turn around,” I whispered. “I need to suck you more.” And right under that tree, we 69ed. Until we simultaneously poured oceans of warm, sweet expressions of our mutual love, thickly into each other’s mouth. We helped each other dress, and we scurried off to our respective jobs. We were breathless, and happy that no student or teacher had decided to take a stroll through the park, before their classes began. We also continued to strengthen the non-sexual side of our great love-affair. Breakfasts and lunches together. Strolling hand-in-hand through the streets and shops of several local towns. Emails about favorite books, şişli escort songs, and movies, and about our religious, cultural, and political beliefs. Just generally getting to know each other, to know everything about each other, not only (but maybe especially) sexually. Eric also gave me help and guidance as I struggled through writing my doctoral thesis. He would advise me on what and where to research. And because he was a well-published professional writer, his edits on my drafts were always very helpful. Once a week, I couldn’t see Eric on my way home from work, because I had to go right from work to school. Those evenings were always tough on me, not having his arms around me, not kissing him deeply, and not gazing lovingly and longingly into each other’s eyes. But we had our five mornings and four evenings together every week, plus lunchtime hook-ups, phone calls (twice a day, during our morning and afternoon work breaks), and long, love-filled, passionate emails to each other every night. Being half Native American, I taught him about our traditional tales of Mother Earth and Father Sky, how their union had parented The People, my grandma’s people, and thus also my people. I told Eric that when he lay flat and his cock pointed straight up and I would impale myself on him, sometimes I would get the mental image of a tall stalk of corn, a staple crop of my people. And how much I loved when he fed that crop of corn to my hungry mouth. Eric liked that imagery. So besides calling him Cyrano for his big “nose” and his skilled swordsmanship, I also bestowed upon him the “official” Native American name of “Tall Stalk of Corn.” Cyrano, or Tall Stalk, and I continued to enjoy frequent sex in our shopping-mall parking garage, which was fast becoming our favorite trysting place. Before or after the mall sex, we would sometimes go the mall ATM, take out $20 each, and then window shop for little tokens of our love and lust, to buy as gifts for each other. One time, he bought me a little pendant with my initial K in a heart. I loved how that pendant and chain looked and felt in my cleavage. And so did Eric! Another time, he bought me crotchless panties, in my favorite baby blue color. That same day, at the same store, I got him the teeniest tiniest man’s pouch G-string I could find, in a sexy red-purple color that nearly matched his own color when he was hard. The pouch barely covered his balls, and it left his entire 8-inch shaft completely visible, pointed straight up above the waistband, the head rubbing his navel. The next time we went to our favorite pond, as we lay on our sex-blanket on the grass, I left on those panties, and he left on that G-string, while he pounded my happy little pussy mercilessly, for a whole hour! Mmmm! Seeing and feeling the teeny tiny underthings on each other, as we made hot passionate love outdoors, just made us both even hornier than usual, if such a thing is even possible. Then there was the Saturday I had to work. I called Eric on his cell phone, and fortunately he was free of obligations to his wife and family that day. I was alone in the office, and I let him in. We snuck off to a back stairwell of the ancient office building where I worked, which I knew had never been modernized with surveillance cameras. There we could kiss and hug. He was free to raise my skirt, and slip a hand down the front of my panties, exploring my inner wetness. I was free to reach down the waistband of his trousers and wrap my hand around his very hard cock, delighting in his every “I Love You” throb against şişli escort bayan my fingertips. “Do we dare?” I asked. He kissed the front of my panties, and he smiled. “We dare.” He skimmed my panties down my legs, and I stepped out of them. Then he ate me through three lovely orgasms, my happy purring getting louder with each release onto his face. Now it was time for me to unzip him, and to watch his whole beautiful eight inches pop free from his jeans. I knelt before him, and I happily, playfully kissed and licked all over. His throbbing, and the feel and taste of his wonderful shaft, made me very hungry, and soon I was hollowing my cheeks and sucking him mightily. He exploded onto my tongue, and I sucked even harder, until he splattered against the back of my throat, too. When he stopped coming, I backed off, and I lovingly licked the lovely and delicious mess off of his cock. Then I sucked again, until I had emptied every last tasty drop from his balls. Mmm, so good! Sssssoooo good! I laid back on the narrow stairway landing, and I lifted my skirt. “Here?” he asked, incredulously. “There’s so little room on this stairwell landing!” I looked at him lovingly, longingly, and I nodded my head Yes. He slipped into me, and I nodded Yes again. He pushed and throbbed his way into me, and I whispered softly, breathlessly, “Uh-huh! Yes.” I clamped my pussy down very tightly around him, and my hands kneaded his muscular butt. I nodded my head Yes again, and I softly repeated “Uh-huh.” He began thrusting, slowly at first. “Faster,” I purred happily, nodding yes again. Then I cooed “harder.” And “deeper.” With more Yes head nods. I scooted forward toward him, so his cock would hit my G-spot. Another “Yes” head nod. “Deeper. Harder. Purrrrr!” He began banging me with fast, deep slams. “Yes,” I purred. His throbbing became more frequent, and my Yes got louder. His thrusting felt like about 100 miles an hour now, and I was yelling Yes, and nodding my head vigorously, enthusiastically, encouragingly. I clamped down tightly around him again, and I spasmed into intense orgasm. He pulled back, and then he slammed down into me, fast and deep and hard. When he was in balls-deep, his cock throbbed very powerfully, and all his come rushed out of his balls, up his enormous shaft, racing out the beautiful bulbous head, and deep, deep, DEEP into me. Mmmm! Ssssooooo good!!! I smoothed down my skirt, lovingly tucked his cock back into his jeans, and zipped him back up. “I have to file a few papers still,” I told him. “That should take about ten minutes. Then there’s this new restaurant I found two blocks from here. We can walk there and have lunch together, okay?” We each ordered a half sandwich and half soup, and as we ate, I rubbed my foot up and down his legs, and I wriggled my toes into his crotch. I kept whispering “I love you.” His hand slipped under the table, onto my knee, and then massaged the front of my panties. Causing me to purr very contentedly. Eric smiled. “I love you, Kat.” After our lunch, we strolled through an antiques store, browsing. We found a beautiful bound copy of the play Cyrano de Bergerac, so I bought it and gave it Eric. I told him to read it first, then give it to me to read when he’s done. We got in Eric’s car, and we drove off into the country in search of a place to make another favorite fantasy I had about Eric and me come true: to make love in a farmer’s barn. With the cows watching me get fucked sssooo hard, every cow getting so jealous of me, because they had no bulls who were anywhere near as mecidiyeköy escort well endowed, nor could fuck them even half so good as Eric does. We never did find such a barn. Looking back on it now, how could we have? “Excuse me, Mister Farmer. Can we borrow your barn? So my hot hunky boyfriend here, can fuck the living hell out of my cock-hungry pussy for about two hours? While your cows watch us?” Yeah, like THAT request is likely to bring us any success! So we just pulled off the side of a deserted country farm road. And in the back seat of Eric’s blue Ford, he very thoroughly plowed my field, and he planted lots of seed. I think I even mooed a little, like a cow must sound when a very well-hung bull gives her one REAL good! In that back seat, Eric flipped me over, and now he gave me our special version of doggie style, completely horizontal (not on all fours). As always, that felt amazing, and he made me feel so happy, so loved, and so in love. It was so sad for us both, to have to go home now. But we had to be home before our spouses were. And anyway, my pussy was getting way too sore now, for any more of this. And Eric felt that he would need at least another hour for his balls to produce more of his hot, thick liquid, to pump so powerfully and so deeply into me. Over the next few days, Eric read Cyrano to me on the train. I, of course, loved the descriptions of how skilled Cyrano was with his “sword.” Cyrano would leave those who felt the thrust of his sword devastated, much as the deeply piercing thrusts of Eric’s own “sword” always left me in a lovely state of total but joyous devastation. I also loved the description of how Cyrano’s “nose” was so big that it entered a room fifteen minutes before he did – that sounded like my Eric and his “nose.” But I squealed in delight when Eric read to me about Roxanne being “a strawberry set within a peach.” He smiled and told me he loved licking on my sweet peach, and nibbling into the tasty strawberry that was set within my peach. I snuggled under Eric’s arm, and I purred happily, all through those days, as we rode the train to our jobs, and he read these (and other) delicious double entendre passages to me. He was my Cyrano, my brave knight, my skilled swordsman with the long “nose,” feasting on my peach and nibbling on my strawberry, set within my peach. Our next opportunity for more than just a few stolen moments of passion, for more than a quickie, was when we got to have another all-day tryst on Dec. 26, 2008, at what was fast becoming our favorite motel, our third stay in that secluded establishment. We, of course, had to spend Christmas Day with our families. Eric and I had agreed to meet at our motel this day after Christmas, rather than meet elsewhere and drive there together. I didn’t know why yet, but Eric had requested that we do it that way this time, meet up in the motel room itself. I already had the room booked (Eric and I always each paid half the room fee), and Eric checked in before I did. When I got to the room, Eric had set up a tiny artificial Christmas tree in a corner of the room. He had spread wrapping paper around it, to make the tree’s base area bigger. He was lying naked on the wrapping paper, a huge red bow tied around his equally red hard cock. “Come and unwrap my Christmas present to you,” he grinned. I knelt down, pulled the ribbon untied, and kissed and kissed and kissed his beautiful hard cock, all over. I licked him, I sucked him, and I guzzled down a big yummy helping of my favorite warm beverage, which my beloved served-up to me straight from the tap. I stood up, and I removed my skimpy dress. I had no bra on, and only the tiniest black lace G-string. I reached into my purse, not letting Eric see what I had pulled from there. I laid down on the floor, flat on my back.

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