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. In the intimacy of it all, I didn’t even worry about the state of the bed. It would wash.
She was incredible. She had the most delectable peachy scent. It was lovely.
I rose up, sucking on her stomach playfully. She was still panting. I pressed my cock over her, smiling as I felt another trickle of her juices. She whimpered, begging me to enter her. I couldn’t help but answer to her wishes.
I remember groaning as the first few inches of my 9 inch bad-boy slowly pushed into her. She was so tight. I urged another few inches in, and kept pushing until I was all the way inside her. I slowly slid out, then back in again, repeating the motion as she gasped and groaned.
I loved the sounds she generated when we made love. She was always so quiet, that it was such a shock to hear her voice so loud! We started slow, but with each thrust I sped up, her gasps fuelling me on. They were like a drug to me. Then something happened. I gazed upon her body and realised something that I had failed to realise, until that moment.
This girl, who was clutching the bed-spread with her tight fists. This girl, who cried as I pressed my weight into her. This girl, who’s nails had clawed against my back. This girl, I loved her. More than anything.
I released myself into her, feeling a tear running down my cheek.
As a young lad, I wasn’t very good at pleasing the ladies. I always tried too hard or too little. My father would always tell me that it was ‘a phase’, but I knew I had to work hard to get past it. He would tell me that I shouldn’t push it, and that I would meet the girl for me one day, but I hadn’t believed him, at the time.
But, as I pulled myself out of Imogen, and watched as she gathered up all her energy to sit up, I appreciated the words my father had given me. I had met the girl for me, and she was sitting right next to me. She needed to be told. But I figured I’d wait till morning, when she wasn’t too tired to listen.
“Can I ask you something, Mitch?”
“Well, you didn’t give me much of a choice there, did you?” I joked. She didn’t smile, or laugh. “What is it, Imogen?” I asked instead, lifting her chin up with my finger. She blushed, and explained to me what she wanted.
“I’m an anal virgin.” She had told me, “But I really want to experience it. With you...” She had stopped, letting the words sink in.
I was scared. Very scared. I’d heard that it hurt. On the other hand, I’d heard that it was an incredible experience. I didn’t know which side to believe more, so I just took my chances.
After a moment, Mitch looked at me. “If that’s you want...” he said, “then turn over, on all fours.” His voice was deep and firm. This somehow soothed me, and I did as he asked.
He had come up behind me, and was stroking my back with his hand. He whispered that he was going to go slowly, and that it wouldn’t hurt. I wasn’t so sure. He ran his hands over my bum, and placed himself in position. At first, I wouldn’t let him in. He was too big. It would kill.
“Open up for me, Imogen.” He purred in my ear.
“W...What if it h...hurts?” I whispered.
“Then I’ll stop.” He said simply. Of course, this didn’t make me feel any better, but I tried to relax my muscles.
Somehow, this reminded me of the first time I used a tampon. The leaflet had said ‘if you experience difficulty, take a deep breath and relax your muscles.’ But there was no leaflet for this. Mitch tried again to enter me. This time I let him. Ooooh.
The pressure was incredible. He slid in easier than I thought. He must have still been covered in our juices. Slowly but surely, he started a rhythm going. I joined him, pumping slowly against his cock. I could feel my muscles contract as he gripped my hips with his hand and held me against him. He lent forward, and I could feel his breath on my back, and he murmured something inaudible. It was a fabulous sensation as he let himself go, filling me.
She was fabulously flushed when she left, that morning. She thanked me for the wonderful night, pecked my cheek and scurried off to her car. My girlfriend was due home at eight o’clock. It was six to.
Imogen had taken all her clothes back, but I ran around the house, making sure all was clean for when...
My girlfriend pushed open the front door, just as I had finished making the bed. Of course, I stopped a few moments, taking in the delicious aroma of Imogen’s cum. I leaped downstairs, in time to watch as my girlfriend put down her bags. I felt a sudden pang of guilt. I was a cheater. Not just to my girlfriend, but to Imogen as well. I only needed one lover, and I knew who it was to be.
“Hel-“ I began, but I suddenly stopped. Imogen’s watch was still on the table. How fucking stupid was I!?
I wasn’t the only one who noticed. She too had stopped dead in her tracks. But not for the reasons I thought.
“Oh my gosh, is that for me?” she said, her voice squeaky. I was lost for words. What other excuse did I have? But as she reached to put it on, I felt a sudden possessiveness flood through me.
“ Don’t.” I warned her, “Don’t put it on. It’s not yours.” She was silent a moment, but then she spoke, her voice shrill. “Then who’s the fuck is it?”
“Does it matter? It’s not yours. So don’t put it on.” I reached and snatched it off of her. She stared at me, trying to study my expression. But I was an expert. My face was blank.
She stalked past me, and up the stairs, into our room.
That night, all was quiet at the dinner table. I hadn’t made an effort to cook that night, so we had a simple microwave dinner. Yum. I could sense my girlfriend’s sharp eyes boring into me. Why couldn’t she just leave me alone? I looked up at her.
My girlfriend, Cassie, had blue eyes. They were small and beady. So different to Imogen’s large, powerful ones. Cassie had a slim mouth and a small pointy tongue. She had quite a cute nose, but very small ears. I studied her as she ate. She had plucked her eyebrows a tad too much. They were blonde, like her hair. Her hair was pin-straight, but only because she styled it to be so. She had a slim, delicate figure. I was always scared that she would break. She had a fragile body, but a strong mouth.
I re-call an argument we had, last year. I’d caught her with another man. This somehow made me feel better about Imogen. At least Cassie had it coming. Cassie had spat words of venom at me. Ever since then, our relationship has always been brittle.
Cassie didn’t say a word to me all night. I wasn’t fussed, either. I spent the night watching my precious footy match. It calmed me down.
It was easily one o’clock when I went up to bed, tired of the cheesy soaps on television at this hour. I stopped at the top of the stairs , glancing between my room, and the spare room. I stepped towards the door in which Cassie was sleeping behind. Then halted.
Why did I waste my time with her? She didn’t love me, and I definitely didn’t love her. I retreated to the spare room.
As soon as I entered, the musky, peachy smell came flooding back to me. I never had told Imogen how I felt about her. I was in too much of a rush. But I planned to. And soon.
I stripped off and crawled into bed, falling into a scrumptious account of what had happened the previous night...
Thankyou for reading. Please comment. Don't steal. Chapter Three coming really soon. I hope ;P
Oh, and please vote and comment if you read it! Critical comments welcome! :)
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