Imogen – Chapter Two
(Please read Chapter One first if you haven’t already!! It will make better sense! Thankyou.)
Our love affair was getting harder to hide. I’m always on edge now, careful to keep my darling Imogen a secret.
Our relationship is blooming. It has been only two and a half months after our first sexual contact. I have loved every second of it. She is astounding. Our sex only got better and better. So good, in fact, that I found myself dreaming of it. Of her. Of course, being so close to her was becoming a challenge, because the more I got to know her, the more I wanted her. I suppose it’s selfish, but I started to forget about my girlfriend. She seems to be fading out of the picture.
Out relationship has been on the rocks recently anyway. She’s always so clingy. She has a right to be, of course, but a man needs his space. So now, I spend a lot of time at Imogen’s apartment. It’s so delightful there.
Her lounge is modern, and sophisticated. It’s a large room, with creamy-white walls and beige carpets. There is a large, cream coloured love seat and two comfy arm chairs; perfect for any interesting positions I might want to introduce. There is a large wooden coffee table in the middle of the room and a great, mature fireplace on one of the walls. There are floral paintings and pictures up around the room, joined now by a few pictures of us.
Her apartment has a medium sized kitchen-diner. The floor is tiled; each tile a different shade of brown or white, and the countertops are oak. She has a few barstools in the room, but there isn’t much else. The diner, on the other hand, is incredible. There is a big oak table, with enough seats for 8. She says she only uses it for family, but we have found many other uses for it, ourselves.
It is her bedroom that captivates me the most. Surrounded by aromatic candles and sensual lighting, it’s a temple. The bed is a large four-poster, with white cotton sheets, and a red throw. She has red pillows scattered around the room, and a vanity against one wall. I protest, saying she doesn’t need any makeup, but she still makes it a daily chore of hers. Upon one wall there is a black and white picture. Of her, no less. She is wearing a two piece bathing suit, which hugs her figure. Just what the doctor ordered. She is resting against a big stone, and the ocean water is lapping against her toes. She looks like a model. She told me it was a birthday present from her eldest sister. I worship it.
I’ve been thinking about it long and hard recently. I used to think my girlfriend was perfect. Flawless. The one for me. But of course, she wasn’t. Far from that, in fact. Imogen has had such an effect on me. She is so shy, yet so blunt. She’s made me see the light. I need her. I live for her.
Of course, our relationship has been rough. She cries at night. She is so jealous of my girlfriend, and I am so stupid. I have yet to tell her how much she means to me; I am too chicken.
There have been many times that I have risked my secret getting out. One major time comes to mind...
Imogen was visiting my home. My girlfriend was at her friend’s place, so we had the whole night entirely to ourselves.
We started the night with a home-cooked dinner. Lamb and Mushroom Korma. I knew the recipe fairly well, but was unsure of a few ingredients. She offered to help. We began by organising the ingredients. She was a very neat person; always had a plan.
I remember watching her chop the onions. She took such care, and I could see the tears welling in her eyes as she chopped them, the aroma stinging her pupils. She caught me looking at her.
“What?” she asked. Her hip cocked to one side, allowing her shirt to rise up. My cock grew firm, and pushed against my jeans. I turned away before she caught me.
She didn’t seem to have noticed.
But, before long, I felt her hands. She dragged them down my back, then back up, massaging my shoulders carefully. She dug her nails into my shirt and skin, barely, and dragged them down once more. She slipped her arms around my waist, and rested her head against my back. Her hands were just above my belt buckle. All was silent, apart from the bubbling of the boiled water. I made sure that gas was on a good temperature, and turned around to face Imogen.
But she was gone.
She had gone back to chopping her onions.
I felt tingly, and numb. I loved it when she touched me.
I remember the first time I glanced at the clock it was two o’clock. In the morning.
It had been such a wonderful night.
I remember him kissing me. He crushed my lips with his, nibbling and sucking in all the right places. I had straddled him on his bed, while he removed my blouse. He sucked on my fingers and palms, before removing my watch and putting it down on the coffee table. He had carried me in his muscular arms, to the spare bedroom. I refused to sleep in his girlfriend’s bed.
I was wearing dark, silky underwear that night. He’d bought it me. It was such a lovely gift, but I was very offended when he’d torn up the receipt. Of course it was so his girlfriend wouldn’t find out. But I can remember weeping that night.
He used his thumb on the edge of my bra, before unclasping it and dropping it on the floor. His breath burned my breast as he kissed them, using his tongue to make circles around the nipples. He nipped them with his teeth, making my back arch. His hands stroked my bare back longingly. He sucked the skin of the breasts firmly, then gently. Quickly, then slowly. This changing of pace made me wet. His hands squeezed my melons. He had lovely hands, large and soft. He ran his thumbs over my nipples and pressed them down, carefully.
He kissed down to my bellybutton, and spent minutes using his tongue and lips to pleasure this soft spot.
Then he dragged down my panties. I was fully wet now, and I could hear him breathe deeply as he took me in. He was desperate now. He dropped my underwear on the floor, by my bra.
He began at the top of my thighs and fixed a trail of small, lusty kisses down to my ankle. He stopped there, and held both my bare feet in his hands. He massaged them for a long while, then he started to kiss my soles and he ran his tongue up and down the bottom of my feet, making my eyes roll to the back of my head. He scraped his teeth along the sides and twirled his tongue between my toes. He sucked on each one gently, resisting the severe urge to bite them.
He then lifted up both my legs and placed them either side of his neck, on his shoulders. From there, I could reach his shirt, and I un-did each button with my hands. I took my time, as he reached up and squeezed my breast. He was becoming intense. I remember him kissing back up from my ankles, to my knee, spending a while kissing the back of them. He then made his way back up to my thigh. He ran his tongue just on the outer skin of my hairless mound. He darted his tongue inside in one quick movement. He took me into his mouth and sucked me until I was ready to cum. He took his time then, teasing me as he slowly licked me, moving back onto my thighs, then onto my clit once more. He plunged into me, drawing the air from my mouth in a loud gasp. His tongue worked around, and as he sucked on my g-spot, I exploded.
She climaxed so heavily, so lusciously, the sight of it almost made me want to cum, myself. But I didn’t stop. I kept my tongue dancing inside her, leaving no inch of her untouched, and she just kept cumming and cumming.
Finally, her incredible splashing session finished, leaving her body limp and weak.
