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Her Carnal State

When the widow decides to play.

I whimpered and keened as his tongue laved my left nipple. My other nipple peaked with anticipation waiting in turn.

I looked at the juncture that joined us together and my thoughts were in a jumble. There was something poetic about it. I could feel him pulsing inside me, taking me with him on a journey of wantonness. His prick, felt heavy and full inside my vagina. Each stroke as he languidly and slowly moved inside me, was making me want to scream, keen. My arms moved restlessly over his back, torso.

I felt hot and out of my depth. He surrounded me. His breath coming in short circuit with every move he made. His manly scent and woodsy musky cologne surrounded me in a cocoon of heat and restlessness. I wanted him so bad. I always did.

I met him in half strides as he pistoned inside me. His slick back felt good to the touch. Rubbing off my body in a perfumed state, dribs of sweat slinked from him. I wanted to mewl like a cat getting scratched.

His hands fondled my other breast pinching the nipple alternatively. I heard myself scream. I couldn't help myself. Feeling him laving one nipple while pinching the other coupled with him moving inside me had me going nuts. I wrapped my arms more tightly around his hips; caging him in my precipice of heaven. I heard him grunt with the effort of holding himself back as he grinded his dick in my g-spot.

I never pictured ravishment to be this exciting nor soul searing. Michael, the stable boy of my father's estate, was a man who knew the baser windings of carnality.

I was no virgin. Being a widow of about three years, I had to devise ways to getting pleasure at any turn. But so far, Michael was the best of them all.

With his dark skin, well muscular lean body, he was magnificent. He had the most riveting dark eyes that crinkled permanently with a sensuality that beckoned to my wantonness. And a mouth that bespoke wanting to be kissed all the time. Who was I to deny myself the pleasure?

I could feel myself on the ledge of an orgasm. Each time, he was inside me, he worked me like he couldn't get enough. And I loved it especially after my sedate marital bed for three years. My sweet departed husband was not an adventurer. Being brought up in a controlling religious household, ensured he only practiced missionary style while we both were under the sheet and in dark. So when he died, I was set free sexually. And didn't I just love it!

Kneeling, he turned me on to my stomach spreading my legs wider as he covered my back with his and surged inside me in one fluid movement. I let out a gasp full of wonder and lust. I could see his lust reflecting mine.

Looking straight into my eyes, he wound his hand around me and brought it to my clit. He rubbed it with tandem to his movements inside me. I grated in the hay-laden hard floor in the stables. I couldn't seem to form coherent thoughts. Pleasure overtook me. I moaned, touching my breasts, moving my head from one side to the other. I tried to rise but he prevented me by putting one hand on my lower back; a show of control on his part.

Michael started moving deep inside me with hard wrenching precision. I could feel him to my womb with each stroke. I screamed as I felt myself letting go getting carried away in my orgasmic bliss.

Putting me on all fours all of a sudden, he shoved inside me. Each movement brought me closer to another climax. This style ensured I felt him fully inside me. With every thrust, I felt both pleasure and pain. He stretched me real well. I could feel him up to my womb. I moaned with every thrust. And I gasped every single time he shoved inside me.

Sweat coated both of us. I could hear Michael's unrestrained groan or grunt once in a while. His hands on both sides on my hips, held me in place. My forearms supported my weight on the hay floor. My boobs moved with every thrust he gave me. I could see his eyes riveted with them. He loved my boobs. He said they were like melons that were about to be plucked and eaten up.

Leaning on my back, he removed his hands from my hips and brought one on my left breast and the other he reached around to rub my clit. I could hear his strained panting as he shoved with unrestrained vigor. I could feel myself stretching and closing every time his manhood shoved inside me.

"Love, I am going to make you scream your head off. Your woman juices will gush over me again and am going to lick you clean after I come inside you," Michael uttered in my ears.

Goosebumps broke all over me. With each shove, I felt he was about to predict how true his words were.

"Come for me. Let go. Feel me inside you," he whispered as he hit my g-spot. Moans broke out from me unbidden. I felt like I was floating in a cavern of blissfulness. He kissed my back. I could feel his need to come fighting with his resolution to see me climax again.

Knowing what made me loose all control, he suddenly pressed real hard on my clit moving inside me hard and fast. I let out a loud scream as I felt myself cumming all over again. Michael shoved inside me several times before grunting his release. I felt soaked to the core with both his cum and mine but blissfully so.

I was deprived of strength. I slumped on the hay; Michael following me and tucking me in his arms. “Do not for a moment think am not going to lick you off Mrs. M,” Michael deliciously whispered in my ears as he wound his arms around me with every intention to do so in a while. I smiled internally daring him to do just that.

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