Three Days — Part III
Three days was the morning.
My focus three days old.
My head, it landed
To the sounds of cricket bows…
I am a proud man anyway…
Covered now by three days…
We saw shadows of the morning light
The shadows of the evening sun
Until the shadows and the light were one.
-Janes Addiction, Three Days
Day 3 — Sunday. Unfortunately, Sunday morning eventually comes for two people who want nothing more than to spend eternity feeling the feeling that they just dove entirely into over the past two days.
He wakes up next to her with a sense of complete happiness, in harmony with the world, in a way he didn’t realize was possible before this moment in all the decades he had lived. That for the 48 hours with her, the entire globe stopped and the only thing that really mattered was the time they shared.
The sex — my God, the sex.
It was as intense as it ever could have been in the history of mankind, but it was just a tool, driving two people madly in love closer together. Ranging from just devouring her kitty, to her sucking his cock in the kitchen, to the intense bondage and aftercare, at least a dozen sessions left her and him thoroughly satiated. Her orgasm count — it had to be somewhere around one hundred. She was going to be walking with a memory of him for the next week. She was aching for and from him, in both definitions of the word, after just the first day, as her pussy was already throbbing from his aggressive nature by Friday night.
Beneath the bliss though, there was an air of gloom as they are also saddened by the harsh realization that time together is limited now. Soon, it will be wheels up time again for him, the deep feelings of missing each other, and then onto planning the next adventure.
The next plane ticket. The next Airbnb. The next city. The next. Just the next time with her.
“There has got to be a ‘next’ time with her,” he thought.
Sunday morning she is beyond sore everywhere, inside and out, and will be for days to come. Not too sore to have sex three more times before getting out of bed, but she will be reminded of his presence for days now.
Waking up next to her and sleeping through the night was pure bliss. Seeing the beauty of her face as his eyes opened was something that he knew he’d never tire of, or get used to. Her long brown hair brushed up against him; her fragile frame. You could put 25 years on her and it wouldn’t change a thing; the butterflies would still be alive and well in his stomach.
He slept next to the door that night, as every man should, and he knew she was sleeping soundly this night considering she’d had an orgasmic marathon of bondage-induced subspace just mere hours earlier.
He recalls looking at her beautiful face in his lap as she fell asleep on the couch the night before, thinking to himself, “she is completely gone from this world right now. I did this to her. She submitted everything to me, and I honored her right. I did right by her.”
“God, I fucking love this woman,” he thought.
He started the morning off by devouring her pussy again as she laid there under the white comforter, which is pretty much his calling card by now. He made her cum like he always does, yet no orgasm ever feels like a routine between them. She bucked and moaned, and sounds of her whimpers at the end will replay in his mind for months to come.
“It is the most beautiful thing to watch, and the most addicting sound to hear,” he thought. “My Kitten, cumming for me. I cannot help it. I’d stay down here all day and make her cum endlessly if I could,” were the words that built up his internal dialogue.
Gazing up into her eyes while he was between her thighs, he stood up, grinned his devilish grin, tossed her phone to her, and he didn’t need to say much more than that. They’d had plenty of conversations about this. Hell, he even wrote a public notice in their shared forum, warning her about it ahead of time.
He ate her pussy and she captured the video of it, but about 15 seconds into it, he shoved two fingers in her overly wet kitty and her moans were unbelievably sexy to hear. For months afterward this would be watched again and again, and it was always that moment when she moaned that sent a shiver down his spine and made his cock hard.
He climbed on, fixed the camera on her pussy, and then slowly shoved the tip of his dick inside her for another quick clip, then tossed the phone down, and fucked her with as much passion and attention to her as he ever had.
Every time they had sex that morning, he came inside her, held it there, and went limp inside her battered hole.
They were not even close to being through yet — they had a couple more hours and they were going to use every last second. He got hard again quickly, positioned her with her head leaning off the bed, he took her asshole and filled it with his hardness. Her moans and screams were so unbelievably surreal, watching the anal orgasm consume her and he knew right then, he’d still see and hear her in this state forever, anytime he closes his eyes to think about it.
Claiming her ass as his property just like every other part of her body, he knows from the reactions he saw coming out of her that November morning that she was completely lost in bliss. She was giving her ass to him and he was taking it and using it in a way that felt amazing for her, which was just something foreign to her.
He came inside her yet again and kissed her with adoring pride.
“You are mine, my love,” he said. “I love you. I love you so much.”
She said she loved him too and when she did, he knew it to be the deepest kind of love you can have. To be quite honest, they said it a million times over those three days and every day before and every day after.
They meant it, in that “best” way.
The heart-wrenching reality of it was that they knew they had to say goodbye soon. So they said it, over and over, as what was supposed to take five minutes took maybe thirty, praying for a plane delay. They were kissing like the world was ending, saying “I love you” and every other thing that two people can say who are reaching their hardest for the most sacred words to express their passion for each other.
They said goodbye. They said, soon again. They said, “I love you.” They said it all and it didn’t fucking matter because they just couldn’t take ownership of time, and that is what they really wanted.
To just stay — forever — like this. To own time.
She got in her car and drove away.
Every single day since he would tell her:
“God, I fucking miss you, Kitten. You are my orange sky, forever. I Love You.”