Pavielle

My boyfriend Marc and I had been dating for olmost two years. I was scheduled to go to Italy to visit that summer with my friend, Lucy, but when she renegged, well, I begged Marc to go along with me instead and he said yes.
Marc and I, internally, had wondered what this trip would bring — but neither one of us had any clue as to where this wonderment would lead.
Finally, we were there. I’ll never forget how Marc reached for my hand and smiled over at me as we left the airport, caught a cab and checked into our hotel — in separate rooms, of course.
The first two weeks were spent sightseeing and avoiding the passions that were flowing between Marc and me. Each night was a struggle not do anything we’d regret. I wanted to on many of occasions — but Marc was insistent on keeping my virtues in tact. He had long lost his virginity but, had regret his decision and was hell bent on protecting me from any such pain.
He was so handsome too.
His eyes were a deep blue with yellowish sparkles. He had shoulder-length, straight, blonde hair and a square jar. He stood a lean but muscular six-feet, four-inches, and looked so much like a Greek God at the height of his power. He had the power too — the power to capture me at any time he wanted. I had often prayed he would will me to sumbit to him, but I had long come to a hopeless conclusion
The day was warm and sultry. I wore a simple white dress, thin and flowing. It was buttoned down the front. I wore my brown-reddish hair swept up in a loose bun, wayward strands blowing with the breeze, into my eyes and tickling the sensitive part of my neck. Marc hated make-up so I wore none. My olive toned complexion was even more darkened by the constant sun. Marc wore a pair of khaki slacks and a white flannel shirt, its sleeves, rolled up to his elbow while the rest up it hung loose and blew comfortable with the tender breeze.
We had gone to visit this little village in the heart of town. All day was spent visiting the vineyards and villagers. We ate fresh, baked break, brick oven pizza dishes and feasted on fruits that neither Marc or I had ever seen before.
As we hugged and shook the hands of the many strangers who had become friends, we heard the crackling of the skies, the showers intruding without warning and taking us hostage. Our bus was going to be late, we were told shorty after. We would have to wait until morning. Thankfully, one of the locals directed us to a small wooden cabin he had built for refuge from storms. He implored us to go there and stay the night
The walk there had not been as short as we were lead to believe. We were soaked by the time we had got there and the evening darkness had started to rear its head. Holding hands and giving each other a pleasant glance, we ran tired, through the winds and the rain, rushing free toward the wooden shack with the tinted windows.
Inside, we slammed the door behind us and looked around at the comfort inside. There was a small medium-sized cot with white sheets and one pillow.
As I raked the wet strands away from my face, I felt a sudden feeling come over me, almost as though I had been stripped bare by some phantom lover. I raised my head slowly and looked over to watch at marc, our eyes meeting. But his stare frightened me this time. For the very first time. His muscled chest and arms were showing through the wet shirt and as he passed his fingers through his hair I gasped, my heart beginning to beat a little faster.
“I guess we better get straight to bed, ha?” I heard myself say, thought not really thinking at all.
“I guess so,” he agreed, still staring me down, undressing me with his almost bitter eyes which burned through me like a hot stake slicing through a block of cheese.
The crackling of the thunder and the clapping of the trees, coupled with lightning shook me, my trembling fingers reaching for one of the white towels which hung from a light switch and attempted to dry myself.
“Let me do that,” Marc offered, walking over to me and taking a hold of the towel, our hands and skin caressing. As he passed the towel over my head and face, my heart raced. He turned me around and I was like a mannequin in his arms as I was turned to face him, his eyes attempting to stare into mine as I hung my head down.
“What’s the matter my sweet, Pavielle?” he asked, in a soft, subtle voice. “Are you afraid of me?” he inquired, with a gentleness I had not recognized.
“No, quite the contrary, Marc. I am ready to be a woman for you tonight,” I managed to admit, finally looking up at him. There were frightened tears in my eyes. “Please don’t send me away this time, Marc, please!” I begged, knowing I was fighting with all I had for everything I had ever wanted. I braced myself for the rejection; for the warnings of morality — but he said not a word.
He passed his huge hand across my face, cupping my face in his hand. He searched the want in my eyes and pressed his lips to mine. I felt the warmth of his sweet tongue and it explored my mouth and searched for my tongue, the two colliding, giving and taking from the other.
Watching into Marc’s eyes, I unbuttoned his shirt and shoved it away from his body, breathing in the manly smell of his skin. I rest the side of my face against his chest and closed my eyes. Reaching my fingers down to his pants, I felt the hardness of him protruding through the wet zipper, almost begging me to save it. Gliding down Marc’s body in increments, I quickly grabbed a hold of the fly of his pants and pulled out the long, thick, veiny instrument, my fingers loosely wrapped around it and my eyes unable to believe; to perceive. It was so angry red when I put it into my mouth and tasted the sweetness of it as I felt it pulsate in my mouth. Marc moaned and I fed on his manhood, his fingers passing aggressively through my hair and gripping on to my shoulders and upper back. I felt the puddle swarming between my legs and knew there was no turning back.
Without warning, Marc grabbed a hold of me and I looked into the wild eyes of a stranger. He riped my dress away from my skin, the buttons flying to and fro. I gasped!
“I love you, Pavielle!” he stated, passionately.
With that one phrase he slipped out of his pants, grabbed a hold of my shoulders and stared into my eyes.
“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, as he passed his lips across my face, settling them on my ears, blowing into it before nibling on my lobe. I sighed and panted, my fingers digging into his broad shoulders.
“Oh, Marc! Oh Marc!” I managed to say, as he lift me into his arms and rested me on the cot. Covering me with his whole frame, immediately, I opened my legs, inviting him to take me. He unhooked the clip of my bra — which was buckled in the front, with his teeth and hurried it away from my body, his eyes staring at the fullness of my large breasts and swollen nipples. His warm mouth took a hold of my nipples and I sighed.
Passing his tongue down my chest and stomach, my rigid thighs fluttering in anticipation, I felt his tongue between my thighs, exploring me as an expedition. I moaned and tossed my head from side to side, my hands grabbing a hold of his head and pulling at his shoulders until he took mercy on me and slid his body back up my frame, covering me again. As he kissed my ready lips, I tasted myself on his mouth, our tongues plunging in and out of each other’s mouths. I wrapped my arms around his neck and whispered… “Marc, I love you!”
Without another word said, Marc kneed my knees apart and brushed his hardness aginst the hairless flesh he wanted so badly. Without mercy, guilt, shame, regret, apprehension…. Marc lunged into me, my puddled wetness enveloping him as my body jerked back in ache and want. I gasped, panted, moaned and cried as I felt him in me, driving through me like a sword into stone, cutting through my innocence; my fear.
As the thunder roared outside; through the lightning and the whistling of the trees, I lied there as Marc feasted on my willing body, his hardened thrusts like pins and needles, bringing me to a painful, pleasure of bliss. I was in heaven!
Throughout the night, he had drained all his nature into me, each cum, coming faster and reaching deeper.
“Marry me, my darling! Marry me, he whispered,” as I felt that last gasp before the final explosion.
Morning came slowly, but arrived. We held each other as though we had one day left to live. The villagers gave us a change of clothing and took us to our bus.
Within days, we were back in Ohio. Within weeks, we were talking about setting a wedding date. Within months we were married. Within a year, we were husband and wife and the proud parents of a baby boy named, Coty.
We are still together today, loving each other as the first time.
We are a family of five now.
Surrendering my body to Marc, for me, was surrendering my heart, love and life.

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