Warning! The following is not PG, proceed with caution.
I’ve been a father and a husband.
I’ve been widowed before too.
I’ve loved and been in love and
know enough to know that there is a difference between the two. My first wife,
Carolyn, was kind and gentle, worthy of any man’s devotion. Initially, I could
not reciprocate her love for me. Our marriage was a political one, an alignment
of Duke and Duchess to strengthen ties between neighbouring provinces and the
realm as a whole. It was only when my wife had fallen ill that I began to truly
love her. But as I’ve stated prior, I was not in love with her.
The difference between loving and
being in love – I have often wondered if it lies within the stirrings of one’s
inner being, the drive to want and need a person wholly, or is it in the
intent; that vessel of the mind that allows one to truly fall in love. I have
been wondering that since I met Jasmine, around a year after Carolyn’s passing.
It began first as lust and casual
dalliances, but evolved into somewhat else. Certainly not love. But there was a
dependence growing between the two of us like a sweet addiction. That addiction
soon bore fruit in the form of a child: my little angel, Rebecca, the third of
the three women most important in my life. But even Rebecca, in all her
splendor and my glory at having had her, was not what eventually made me fall
in love with Jasmine. I can’t explain it other than to say that it fits. The
chemistry between us is undeniable and, though I still grieve for Carolyn, I
have never been happier in my life.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She smiled and then we kissed,
her tongue darting between my lips as my hands caressed her, helping her out of
the gown. Our lips parted and she flung herself on the bed, slipping off the
rest of the gown, lying naked before me. Her body was beautiful and my pulse
quickened at the sight of her. At once, I tore off my shirt and undid my
breeches with difficulty, finally managing to get them by my hard phallus. As I
sank into the bed she spread her legs and then I finally took her.
Hard.
And fast.
Our lovemaking was at once a race
and a long-distance run. The pace was excruciating. We were insatiable. Again
and again, I took her from every possible angle to every possible climax,
holding off on my own until I finally spent myself and my seed within her.
That was the first of many such
dalliances.
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